"Those to Whom it Matters Most"

One more article before I get to work.

In "Gay rights and religion are not opposed to one another," Petra Davis begins by talking about the false binary that much of the same-sex marriage debate has formed:

Lesbian, gay, bi and trans people are as diverse, culturally, as any other group, with many from faith communities among the throng. Gay columnists are quick to deploy generalisations about religious abuse, with little regard for those with complex cultural, sexual and gender identities. If the debate were led by those to whom it matters most - LGBT people of faith - it might well look significantly different.

She moves quickly from this topic to the other issues around which LGBT people might want to organize: say, mental illness or homelessness in the LGBT community. These seem to be more pressing issues that equal marriage rights. Why are they not being addressed? By the end of the article she becomes a bit alarmist--I'm not sure I would want to use the phrase "a new queer fascism"--but barring the final paragraph, it's a good read.

A few disconnected thoughts: the LGBT people of faith may not be leading the conversation because, by now, their voices are thoroughly overwhelmed. I do not imagine that they can speak easily in their religious communities (though that's changing); I don't know enough about LGBT circles, but I imagine there might be silencing there, as well. So asking why the conversation is not being led by them strikes me as a little naive: they have good reason of fearing being outed (as queer or as religious) to either community. But we should also try to avoid the "silent victims" trope, which can re-enforce their victimhood and cast us (whoever we are) as necessary saviours for them. (Avatar, Dances with Wolves, The Blind Side, The Help, etc. etc.)

And perhaps the focus is on marriage rights because those are easier to fix than homelessness, mentall illness, and so forth. It has clear victory conditions. Focusing on the Marriage Front allows one to identify enemies (those who oppose legislation) and easily select tools (lobbying, legal-drafting, etc.) to win that campaign. The other arenas are more serious, but finding out who is blocking you and selecting the best means to acheive your goals are a lot harder when you're combatting increased incidents of mental illness in LGBT people. That daunting (and less clearly adversarial) campaign makes it difficult to draw media attention, financial backers, and public support. It also involves other categories of oppression (ie. mental illness, neurotypicality), which makes delineating your "sides" a lot harder.

Penguins

If you ever want to watch some penguins live online, I've got just the thing for you:

http://dsc.discovery.com/tv/frozen-planet/penguin-cam/

Lenten Sonnets (Second Post)

This will be the third religious post in a row. I try to avoid that, since I know I do have some non-religious readers (and readers for whom reading about religion might be boring, which may not have the same members as the former group). But anyway, here's another sonnet, one that is maybe more accurate in sentiment than the previous one I posted.

3

And when you fast, he said, do not look dreary,
Like hypocrites, for they deform their faces
To show the world that they with fast are weary;
They have received at least their promised places.
And when you fast, put oil upon your head,
And wash your face, so that your fast may not
Be seen by others, by the Father read
Alone, who will reward you with your lot.
But God, complaint is my preferred expression;
Moaning is my wine, griping my bread.
I publicize my woes as harsh oppression
And groan until the time of fast has fled.
I ask you, God, to turn my pouts to graces
And fashion patient psalms from painful traces.

Lenten Sonnets (First Post)

This Lent I am supposedly writing a sonnet for each day. I say supposedly because I haven't been very good lately. I can still catch up though--I might do that this Saturday. At any rate, as a bit of motivation to continue this practice, I will post one that I wrote last year up here. My attempt last year failed horribly, so I'm using the few I did write as a bit of a buffer. This is the second in my sequence so far.

2

This fasting is a desert we escape
Into together; we, like Jacob, walk
The sandy paths of penitence and ape
Our loss amidst the plains of ash and chalk.
The Promised Land, our distant Canaan, lies
Out there, ahead, a season’s journey hence;
Invisible beyond the rocks and sky,
Oasis lost among mirages dense.
But that the Lord once met temptation here,
This waste would not be sacred; by walking we
Do consecrate this barrenness each year
And shape from dust cathedrals bare and free.
In wilderness we make a stony altar
Which will both fast and wand’ring faster alter.

Feminine Christianity

Rachel Held Evans is asking for male Christian bloggers to write a post celebrating women in the church in order to resist the claim, recently made by popular evangelical pastor John Piper, that Christianity has a "masculine feel." (If I got that wrong intent wrong, someone please tell me. But let it be clear that I see this as resisting that claim.) I was going to write a different blog post tonight, but here goes.

When I hear someone say that Christianity has a masculine feel, I know that what they say is true in a particular regard: Christianity as it has usually been practiced for most of its history has been produced and shaped, at least in publicly and institutionally, by men, and so Christianity as a sociological phenomenon that we receive today is shaped by mainly male concerns. It has a masculine feel. This seems to be especially true in the evangelic South of the United States, though it pervades all parts of North American society that I have encountered. (The church in which I grew up saw an attendance decrease during the years we had a female pastor. The members who stopped attending were quite explicit that it was in response to the pastor's gender.)

I make a distinction, however, between Christianity-as-we-receive-it-today (or "the sociological phenomenon" of Christianity) and Christianity-as-it-could-and-ought-to-be (or "the ideal" of Christianity). It is only the sociological phenomenon that I would automatically say has a masculine feel to it. This matters to me quite a lot insofar as Christianity-as-we-receive-it-today shapes the religious experiences we have as Christians; it also shapes the ways in which non-Christians view us collectively. But the characteristics of Christianity-as-we-recieve-it-today do not particularly impress me as being authoritative. When it comes to how we should act, I care rather more about Christianity-as-it-could-and-ought-to-be. So I advise that we take a look at that particular entity.

We immediately have a problem in trying to do so, because it doesn't seem to exist as a particular community before us. That's unsurprising. I think a lot of people would automatically turn to the Bible to see what it looks like. I don't suppose this approach is not valuable; I'm not going to do it here because I'm trying to finish this post in twenty minutes and I haven't time. Also, my exegetics aren't as good as I'd like them to be (this guest post might explain why), so I don't think that's what I can be most helpful with. Let me send you here for a start, however.

Instead, I'll start with a completely unscientific idea of the few features that I have much certainty on. From what I can tell, God wants us to do a few particular things. They are as follows:

1. Tend to others when they are suffering


2. Lament the misfortunes of ourselves and others


3. Give thanksgiving for what has been given us


4. Praise what is good


5. Forbear from reciprocating violence and aggression


6. Devote ourselves to a life of service


7. Live our lives as innocently as we can


8. Foster group/community harmony

If this list seems to you especially masculine, I cannot think you've spent much time in our culture. Some of it seems gender neutral; some of it seems explicitly feminine; most of it could go either way. The primary characteristics which define these actions seem to be forebearance, compassion, and emotional honesty/expression. In our culture, at any rate, these tend to be defined as feminine virtues, not masculine ones. They are the roles of mourner, nurse, confidante, and go-between.

An obvious objection to what I just said is that I am talking about how our current culture defines masculinity and femininity. When people say that Christianity has a masculine feel, they mean that it has a masculine feel according to the Christian definition of masculinity. My first response would be that I think that's what they mean to say, but that their definition of masculinity is really not Christian (in the ideal, not sociological, sense) at all; they mean it according to their culture. But let's forget that particular case for a moment. Let's instead focus on how masculinity/femininity is not something that the Bible explicitly defines at any point. It's focuses seem rather different. They seem to be the things I've said above. My suggestion is that the Bible does not care at all about gender identity, in which case to say that Christianity has a masculine feel would be that masculinity must be some kind of cultural term.

But even if not, those goals and roles will still seem feminine to most of us, even if we know better. For many men, adopting the required attitudes will take a certain degree of courage (much like wearing pink in public). As a result, there are hosts of women who are already doing that work--nursing, visiting, comforting, forbearing, listening, reconciling, praising, lamenting, mourning. So this post goes to them, those women who are already acheiving what we all ought to be acheiving. This post goes to those women who are being Christian by being what our culture calls feminine. Thank-you. I hope more of us men will someday be strong enough to be feminine Christians alongside you.

Theoretical Sonnet I

For a seminar I had to summarize Derrida's "Signature, Event, Context"; after I completed that assignment, I decided to do it again in the form of a sonnet. (To those who don't know, even lit theory nerds who disagree with Derrida still get a little bit enamoured, enough to do silly things like write a sonnet about one of his essays.) I found this exercise very helpful, and I might try it again with other theorists.

I'm not sure how much this is worth to you if you aren't already somewhat familiar with Derrida (a deconstructivist), but at any rate I thought I'd put it here, just in case.

Final disclaimer: I'm not saying that I agree with everything Derrida says; this is a summary, not a statement of my opinion.

I sing my song of Derrida; this dry
And second thing communicates to thee,
My absent reader, that this sonnet’s free,
And I, with my intent and context, die.
This place from which I write, you cannot scry,
Nor can I know what meaning you can see,
Nor whether eyes to tears shall movèd be;
To origins quotation shan’t comply.
This sonnet, then, does not communicate;
Could speech? Ah, no, for words of tumbling air
Can only mean in language spoken late
By others, diff’ring concepts here and there.
Speech and writing, each such stratagem
Can graft again upon another stem.