Listen More, Read Less

I have a new podcast episode up - I discuss with Rabbi Amy Levin Christianity, supersessionism, and Judaism. It can be found on iTunes under Twelve Enough, or on the following website. Listen and enjoy!

Murder, Justice, and Ethics Most Foul!

            Murder on the Orient Express is the first Agatha Christie book that I have read. In fact, it is the first murder-mystery that I have every read, so this was a new experience for me on many levels. I would say that it was a pleasant experience. Christie’s writing is clear and concise. She is not heavily descriptive but does not contrive moments when important clues are offered to the reader. It is an easy but fun read with a good twist in the end. It is the conclusion of the work that has left me thinking.

           

Spoiler Alert! This whole reflection is based on the conclusion of Christie’s book. So if you don’t want to know whodunit, then you probably should not continue reading. Seriously, stop reading. I may not say what happened, but I don’t want to be held responsible for ruining your fun and exciting read. So here comes the spoiler:

After reading Christie’s work I am left with the question, “when is it ok for a group of people to take justice in their own hands?” In this work a man commits a horrible crime and because of his connections with the mob and the money he has he is not convicted. The man is allowed to go free even though everyone knows he is guilty. Not only has this man murdered a kidnapped child, the characters in the book argue that he is responsible for the death of the child’s parents and one other person. Thus the man has the deaths of a multitude of people on his hands and he does not go to prison; he is not punished. To many in the book such an injustice cannot go unheeded and a group of people connected with the crime and family involved decide to take matters in their own hand. This man ends up murdered by twelve (or thirteen?) other people.

When is it ok for a group of people to take the law, or justice in their own hands? Were their actions just? Did they do the right thing? I hope this is not an easy question to answer.

First, we have a system of laws to keep society from resorting to a mob mentality. As a rule, the whim of the mob is seldom the best thing. Think of the scene in To Kill a Mockingbird when Atticus Finch is in front of the jail doing all that he can to keep a mob of men from lynching the innocent (although presumed guilty) Tom Robinson. The mob is seldom right (except in the random Simpsons episode) and the law is supposed to protect the individual from mob rule. Yet when that system of laws breaks and does not see that justice is served what then? The legal system is far from perfect. It can be manipulated. It can be misused. It can cause an innocent man to suffer and allow the guilty to go free. When this happens the purpose of the law falls away, people are not protected, and it is easy to see why some might feel that the best recourse would be to take matters into their own hands.

Second, consider the notion of justice. There are many different approaches and understandings to the concept of justice from MacIntyre to Rawls to Aristotle and many more. Justice could be a working towards equilibrium, a fair distribution of goods, or a punishment that is comparable to the crime. Justice could be relational and communal or abstract. However justice is understood, it is important to remember that the legal system is not always just and laws do not always serve the cause of justice. That is why our lawmakers have the power to change them. The system is constantly being fixed (and broken and fixed and broken). So in the case of The Orient Express one could argue that justice was not served, that an injustice was allowed to continue, and it was imperative that the group of people did whatever they could to make things right.

Third, consider the punishment of death. Is it just to take someone else’s life? I imagine that many, considering the man murdered a child and was responsible for the death of others, would say that it is right to take his life. They would argue that the crime is so severe that the only recourse would be to kill the man. What does that achieve? In his work Discipline and Punishment, Foucault considers the idea of the purpose and goal of punishment as a deterrent and corrective for the convicted. Taking a life may serve as a deterrent but offers no corrective, no option for penance and/or reform for the convict. Is the individual so far gone that his or her life no longer has any value? Leaving such a question up to a small group of people (not an impartial jury by any means) is dangerous at best.

            If I were to take issue with Christie’s work it is that this moral dilemma seems to be addressed very lightly. Hercule Poirot, the great thinker, does not give the matter deep thought, does not wrestle with what might be the “right” thing to do. What is important is that he solves the mystery. This gives short change to an important question that drives the motive and much of the book. Here is where I would encourage you to watch the movie.

 There are a number of television/film adaptations of this book. The 2010 version (AgathaChristie’s Poirot version that was on A and E) is one that shows the Poirot struggling with the ethical dilemma. Poirot is torn because he understands the danger of allowing a group of people take the law into his own hands. Yet he also understands the dilemma they faced and why they made the decision to murder a man who seemed to have sense of morality at all. This movie adaptation shows the pain and the worry and the anguish that Poirot wrestles with in deciding to not implicate the group of people. 

What is right? What is just? Christie’s book asks such questions but does not delve into them. I guess that is the difference between a fun mystery and a good novel.

Good Doubt

Doubt is a very real part of life. We doubt truth statements on a daily basis from those made by weather forecasts to those made by politicians and everything in-between. Your doubt may reach to levels of existence and metaphysics questioning even the presence of the words of this blog as you read them (they don’t exist, you are only seeing a conglomeration of ones and zeros). Doubt is normal and human.

Yet we seem to get excited when doubt occurs in the religious arena. When talking about faith and God and one’s doubt becomes, for many, a taboo, a problem that needs to be overcome. For doubt to exist in areas of one’s faith is portrayed as problematic.

I have now watched my second Ingmar Bergman movie, Winter Light and am getting snobbier and snobbier by the minute. It was only the binge viewing of the Rambo movies that kept me from completely removing myself from the hoi polloi, the common folk and to start living for the sake of the aesthetic beauty of obscure art. Thanks Rambo, you have saved me again.

Winter Light wrestles with doubt in the religious context. Tomas, the main character, is a priest who is wrestling with a profound doubt because of his particular faith in God. His role as a priest is cobbled by “God’s silence.” The God that Tomas believes in has been silent and absent. When a married couple looks to Tomas for help Tomas can only offer dribble. The husband is in despair, he wants to take his own life and Tomas cannot reach him. He cannot offer any depth, any direction, or any real help to a man who only sees despair and hopelessness and hatred in the world. For Tomas, doubt is debilitating.

This is a common approach to doubt in the religious arena. It comes out of the notion that you must have a strong, robust faith that cannot be shaken, challenged, or harmed if you are to be a leader. Yet in Tomas’ case (and for many others) his doubt is necessary for his faith is immature, adolescent and shallow. Tomas believes in an “echo God” – a god who is a reflection of himself. Think of Feuerbach’s projection idea of God (that God is the needs and desires that we project), add a dash of narcissism and you get this hallow God that Tomas has held to throughout his vocation. Now, years after his wife’s death, Tomas is hearing only God’s silence because his conception of the divine and his faith cannot be sustained when faced with the reality of life. Tomas is at a point where he is forced with a choice: wrestle with his faith, deepen his convictions and his relationship with God or leave the priesthood, the church, and embrace disbelief. It is doubt that brings him to this place.

This is a good thing for Tomas. It is not a fun or easy thing, but it is good and demonstrates the value that doubt can have with one’s faith. When faced with the harsh realities of the world a shallow, mean, empty, immature God will not stand. One’s faith will justifiably be threatened and doubt will emerge. If one’s faith is shallow then this doubt can become a corrective, a purge of the weakness. Doubt can be a saving grace depending on where it may lead.

What you do with your doubt is the important unknown that makes doubt potentially dangerous.

When doubt forces you to face the frailty and faults of your faith and when doubt challenges your hopes you can crumble, wither, and walk away from all things spiritual and religious, or you can face your doubt, take it seriously and wrestle. You can wrestle with whatever those core tenants of your faith may be. You can claim a deeper, stronger, healthier faith.

Bergman’s movie ends with Tomas standing before an empty sanctuary (aside from his mistress and a crippled sexton) and Tomas starting the service. Tomas starts by saying, “Holy, holy, holy; All the Earth is filled with your glory.”

There are a number of ways that this ending can be understood and I am not going to list them. Watch the movie, make your own decision about this ending. What I see is hope. I see Tomas crying and clinging to one of those basic tenants of his faith and demanding that it be seen through. Tomas wants to hear God. Tomas wants to find a God that is not just an empty echo of himself and so he falls into the performative act that goes deep into his tradition and allows the power of that act to help him in his doubt.

Returning to or continuing those actions, the ritual, the prayer that connects with a tradition, that goes beyond your individual, personal faith is one way to wrestle with a good doubt and may bring you closer to God. Instead of going deeper into yourself, lean on the writings of the ancients, the prayers that have been passed on for centuries, and the scriptures that have been informing and guiding people in their faith for generations. Lean on those resources, say the words, ingest the wisdom, and listen for God. Let your doubt purge the weakness of your faith and let the actions guide your belief.  

Here is the quick summary of what I am trying to say:

Doubt = good (sorta)

Worship = good (kinda)

Bergman’s Winter Light = good

Watch the movie, doubt your faith, worship with the multitudes that have gone before us, mix, stir, and ingest.

Lets All Go to the Movies!

Before you think that all I do is read I want to assure you that I also watch plenty of movies and television shows (via Netflix and Hulu). Yet my watching is regimented so I can continue to wave my snob flag proudly. I try to watch every movie that has been nominated for an Oscar. It does not matter what the Oscar was for – best costume usually has some of the most interesting and obscure films – as long as it was nominated. This opens up to me a number of foreign films that I would not watch otherwise, documentaries, and short films. I have organized the “Oscar Movies” by years.

I am also going through the American Film Institute (AFI)’s list of 100 best films from the last century. My list is a hybrid of the original list and the edited 10 year anniversary list. This is my second time going through this list and it is a joy to revisit some of these grand classics.

You will also notice two Ingmar Bergman films – this is something I am watching with a friend of mine… keep an eye out for a blog post on Winter Light.

Finally, the whole façade falls away with my “fun films.” Before you think I am a completely stuffed shirt notice that I watched both Kill Em’ All and Tai Chi Zero. I do allow myself to watch stupid, fun movies (or I have to take the kids to the movies and they don’t like the ones with all talking and no action). I am, after all, not a robot but a man with a heart, with feelings, with needs and desires and sometimes those can only be met with a great ass-kicking movie. So here is the list of movies (and television shows) I watched in the past year. Enjoy –

Television Shows:

Dr. Who (the recent reincarnation)

Archer

The West Wing

Sherlock

Family Guy

Mad Men

Portlandia

Breaking Bad

The Walking Dead

Luther

Friday Night Lights

Arrested Development

(The following shows I am not watching on Netflix, but instead on Hulu):

The Daily Show

The Colbert Report

Brooklyn 99

Movies: total - 58

Oscar 2009

The Betrayal

Slumdog Millionaire

The Baader Mienhof Complex

Hellyboy 2: The Golden Army

Defiance

Wall-E

Oscar 2011

Incendies

The Wolfman

Unstoppable

Iron Man

Restrepo

Outside the Law

The Lost Thing

Waste Land

Let’s Pollute

Oscar 2012

Hell and Back

Hugo

Bullhead

Albert Nobbs

The Muppets

Drive

Real Steel

The Ides of March

Bridesmaids

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy

The Adventure of Tintin

Transformers: Dark of the Moon

The Iron Lady

Oscar 2013

Brave

Beasts of the Southern Wild

The Master

Silver Linings Playbook

Amour

Zero Dark Thirty

AFI’s Top 100 Films

Chinatown

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

The Grapes of Wrath

2001: A Space Odyssey

The Maltese Falcon

Raging Bull

Fun Films For Kicks

Four Brothers

Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol

The Raven

Kill Em’ All

The Hunger Games

Tai Chi Zero

Now You See Me

Iron Man 3

This Is The End

Man of Steel

Despicable Me 2

Red 2

Solomon Kane

Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters

Parker

The Hobbit (Part 1)

Fun (in a different way) Bergman Films

Through A Glass Darkly

Winter Light

Joy in Twinkie Eating

A review/reflection of Sacred Stories, Spiritual Tribes: Finding Religion in Everyday Life, by Nancy Tatom Ammerman. Oxford University Press, 2014

I want to speak to all of the parishioners of the “golf course,” the “solitude of nature” and other individualistic experiences of spirituality. Stop it.

I’m speaking to those who would say that there is a God but one who can be found in the simple joy of eating a Twinkie. Stop it. Stop your selfish spirituality. Yes, there is something soothing and powerful about a good, fresh Twinkie as well as nature and I suppose golf can have some redeeming qualities. Yes, we can experience the presence of God (or whatever it is that we are experiencing) in moments of isolation. In fact for many of us it may be those moments of isolation (i.e. prayer) that are the most profound and moving. Maybe time on the boat, time in the garden, time walking the dog, and time chasing a tiny ball is time that is deeply spiritual and rewarding. But that is not all there is to engaging with that “other.”

What it is that gets me is those who use the time of spiritual isolation as the totality of their spirituality. There is no connection with a community. There is no accountability, no sharing, and no challenging of one’s experience. I understand that spiritual communities (some call them churches) can be overwhelming at times or just downright militaristic about the “right way” to believe. A lot of hurt and harm has happened because of religious communities that have pushed exclusion, hatred, and focused on power over the basic tenants of their particular faith. Stay away from those places. There are others (some call them churches) that are engaging, encouraging, and supportive. These are places where you will find people who want to walk with you in your spirituality, and I believe you will be a better person.

Ammerman’s work in part considers the role religion and spirituality play in everyday life. In this work Ammerman and her colleagues offer findings from a brilliant sociological project where they looked to find where people connect with something bigger, with a “Sacred Consciousness.” They made the bold move to look beyond religious institutions and rituals connected to religious traditions; they looked at what many would claim to be the mundane and found an awareness of the sacred. It is not only in churches where the divine can be found. In fact it is more often not in churches where the divine can be found but in the ordinary workings of life. People have, Ammerman argues, a “sacred consciousness.” While Ammerman does not fully develop the notion of “sacred consciousness” she does make it clear that people are aware of a presence or an opportunity to engage with something greater than oneself. There is a sense that there is something more. What that something more might be can vary from person to person. It can be the aesthetic quality of a good experience or the belief and awareness of the presence of a holy other. Hence the golf course, Twinkie eating experience.

What Ammerman also points out is the role religious institutions can play in articulating and giving language and focus to such experiences.

Congregations gain their potency as spiritual tribes, not through their exclusivity or high boundaries but to the degree that they create spaces for and encourage opportunities to imagine and speak about everyday realities through the lens of sacred consciousness. (302)

It is through religious communities that one can find a language and a grammar that speaks to the sacred experience, that has wrestled and continues to wrestle with the questions, and that can offer guidance and focus to one’s own search for spiritual connection. Ammerman is good in pointing out how the impact of a religious community is felt beyond the walls of the institution and seeps into the ordinary of the everyday life. You can still eat that Twinkie but now you may have a prayer extolling the great Creator who gave humanity the knowledge to create such yummy goodness.

Beyond the grammar, religious communities seem to push people to go beyond themselves and to be more. Ammerman points out that those connected with religious communities tended to volunteer for charitable actions more than those who did not (296). Religious communities have a level of expectation on its participants that can (although sadly does not always) lead to good works. It is good for you to be a part of a community.

So stop being spiritually lazy. Put down the Twinkie and find a place to connect. Through those communities your experience of the Holy Other can be enhanced. You can find a deeper awareness of the Divine’s presence in your life, in the brilliance of nature, the time on the golf course, or in the sweet, blissful moment when you take that first bite from the Twinkie. Ammerman’s book does not negate but celebrates the experience of the sacred in the ordinary. From my reading of Ammerman’s work I would say that participation with a religious community only enhances such an experience and increases such awareness. Your Twinkie eating experiences will never be the same.