Nothing New

This is a non-post. I don’t have anything pressing or urgent to communicate and lunch is having its siesta way with me. Rachel and Steve were here for the weekend, and the only way it could have been any better would have been if Rebecca and Kevin had been here, too. Too many of the cases I’m processing these days involve mothers the same age as my daughters. While it provides a sense of relief and gratitude to know that Rachel and Rebecca are fortunately not dealing with trying to figure out who the father of their children is so that they can try to get some money out of him, I still cannot shake off what a dreadful predicament this is for the women who are. And pity the poor children! If one ever wants a serious explanation for what’s going wrong with this world they need look no farther than the nearest unwanted human being. Behavioral scientists make the argument that sex for the purpose of procreation is as necessary to human survival as food, clothing and shelter, and as such it is probably primitively instinctual. But may God shower tender mercies upon all these babies that have no reason for being here other than that their biological parents wanted to get it on. Whoa! The lunch hour has expired and I used two-hundred and thirty-two words to say nothing!

First Things First

Today’s first order of business is to reiterate my enthusiastic support of Barack Obama, and to praise his remarkable ability to stay above the media-generated fray. I’m beginning to realize that by faithfully following what is increasingly tantamount to commercialized opinion, I unwittingly “disconnect” from the real truth of things.

For example: Barack Obama – Change We Can Believe In

This excellent website provides as much detail as one seeks about what Obama intends to do as the People’s President through implementation of the grassroots power that is gaining strength by the moment. Oh, yes, I’m too hooked on The NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams, TIME, GoogleNews, etc, to withdraw cold turkey, but I owe it to what Obama is trying to do to not exclusively inform myself via corporately sponsored sound bytes. From now until the election, I will not allow myself commercial media without equal or more time spent learning more about Obama’s plan-of-action when We the People elect him our president.

On One

It is with sincere regret that I have learned from both my parents that their attempts to comment during my Lenten series were thwarted by a format that was not user friendly. My heartfelt thanks go to Rachel who, upon being advised of the situation, quickly rectified the problem. So, if anyone has just been itching to comment but has been intimidated by passwords, verifications, etc, feel free to proceed unimpeded.

I was aware of personal change as I pursued the topic of death, and I continue in my Easter revelation that acceptance of the inevitability of the occasion influences my worldview as surely as does denial. The process of experiencing each moment as precious because there is no guarantee of another profoundly emphasizes the existential now in a way that puts everything else into perspective. Yes, I continue to be concerned with politics, environment, and so on, but now I find myself evaluating those concerns by the measure of how they strengthen or weaken my connection with One. Nothing else really matters.

Put Another Way

#1 Common Wealth by Jeffrey D. Sachs

Easter eve
The great mystery about to unfold
Never to be comprehended as fully as experienced
The never lost connection restored

Born to Die, finale

I am what I become.

Born to Die, part twenty-nine

I quote from the Scholars Version translation to which many members of the so-called Jesus Seminar contributed:

And they go to a place the name of which was Gethsemane, and he says to his disciples, “Sit down here while I pray.”

And he takes Peter and James and John along with him, and he grew apprehensive and full of anguish. He says to them, “I’m so sad I could die. You stay here and be alert!”

And he would move on a little, fall on the ground, and pray that he might avoid the crisis, if possible. And he would say, “Abba (Father), all things are possible for you! Take this cup away from me! But it’s not what I want {that matters}, but what you want.”

And he returns and finds them sleeping, and says to Peter, “Simon, are you sleeping? Couldn’t you stay awake for one hour? Be alert and pray that you won’t be put to the test! Though the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak.”

And once again he went away and prayed, saying the same thing. And once again he came and found them sleeping, since their eyes had grown very heavy, and they didn’t know what to say to him.

And he comes a third time and says to them, “You may as well sleep on now and get your rest. It’s all over! The time has come! Look, the son of Adam is being turned over to foreigners. Get up, let’s go! See for yourselves! Here comes the one who is going to turn me in.”
--Mark 14:32-41

Since I made note of the source, it seems only right to inform further that the seminar deemed none of the words attributed to Jesus in this passage to be authentic (red letter). With the Gospel of Mark widely accepted as the earliest of the canonical gospels, it is interesting to see how the early church was already putting its spin on the meaning of Jesus’ life and death by the way it reported his ministry of some half-century earlier.

I was fortunate to have a minister father who considered it important to communicate the whole, the complete story, which includes this glimpse at an all-too-human Jesus that would prefer not to have to die at this time in this way. Gethsemane serves as the gateway from the Upper Room to the Cross, and it is critical that we understand this “crisis of faith” in the context of death’s inevitability. This cup will not pass from any one of us—Jesus included—and so the lessons of acceptance and release are graphically and dramatically portrayed in such a way as to ensure that there is no question but what Jesus demonstrated the way to die even the most horrible and humiliating of deaths. Be not afraid is an empty phrase if not borne out by the Experience that actualizes the Truth in which Faith resides.

One spring in my early teens Mom thought that it would be fun to grow some potatoes in our garden. Starting the roots was a late winter activity that pointed in the hopeful direction of new life erupting after a seemingly deathly cold and darkness that nothing could survive. What Mom wasn’t sure of was the proper time to plant the sprouts. That’s where Grandma Hanna entered the picture. A fount of the kind of wisdom that comes only to elders, Grandma knew that Good Friday was the correct time to introduce the roots to the soil. That next fall we enjoyed deliciously fresh home-grown spuds (one meal’s worth, as I recall) that were the product of three generations’ labor and wisdom.

It was with this memory, combined with the profound impression made early in my development of the events of Holy Week leading to Easter, that I planted two sages and two iceplants today. I know that they will eventually die, I just hope later than sooner. I’ve begun yet another relationship, this time with four plants. Relationships begin, end, and begin again, forever sustained by their infinitely eternal Source. Jesus’ gospel validates the revered Shema by proclaiming God the primordial, the primary, the fundamental relationship of our mortal experience. All else becomes secondary, tangential. As revealed in the crucifixion, our living truly is preparation for our dying, with the primary objective being the realization, nurture, and actualization of the ultimate relationship with the One who creates, sustains, and receives.

I have no idea what Jesus’ thoughts actually were as he hung from that cross, but surely he knew he was going to die. He exemplified the truly intimate, personal nature of the relationship between creature and Creator. Through Jesus’ death the Christ burst forth as the genuine spirit of faith that understands forgiveness as the way to communion, the ultimate relationship. Thank you, Jesus, for showing me the way to die and for the assurance that I have nothing to fear but my failure to develop that relationship with God which, when totally engaged through heart, mind, and soul, knows no end.

Born to Die, part twenty-eight

08.03.20
Kenneth Roger Gregg, 57, of Las Vegas, died March 14, 2008. He retired from the District Attorney's Office of Family Support. He is survived by his wife, Deborah and daughter, Katherine. No services are scheduled. Donations can be sent to Catholic Charities of Southern Nevada Parenting Adopted Kids family group.

So, Ken, how’s it goin’?

I’m not as good a friend as I wanted to be, as is borne out by my learning only today of your “passing.” Life handed you more than—at least what seemed to me—your fair share of challenges: poor health, the untimely deaths of your children, discrimination of the ordinary toward the different. I never knew you as anything but a gentle giant that had a kind word for every one. As cubicle neighbors over the years I was afforded the opportunity to grow in my respect for your intelligence, knowledge, and wisdom. It is certainly to your credit that you served the public right up until it wasn’t possible any longer.

I’m hoping that you will see the humor in the fact that I’ve been thinking about death this Lent. I never really had a clear picture of your theology, and that means you probably didn’t have a clear picture of mine. But we were both acquainted with the tenets of Methodism which may have led us to believe that we really ought to understand each other’s. Alas, I never sensed that we were on the same page on that subject. I have to admit that I found your scholarship to be somewhat intimidating at times, partly because it was from a school with which I have little familiarity due to my disinclination. But now, you know; while I am still here wondering.

If it is actually part of the cosmic process that you have passed to a better, happier experience, praise God! I and the many people privileged to be your friends could hope for nothing less. In this I have faith: you proceed in the abiding and gracious love of your Creator.

Born to Die, part twenty-seven

While I will never be accused of being a social butterfly, I don’t want to be alone. Depending on how it is defined, I suppose that I could go so far as to say that I’m afraid of being alone. This does not mean that I do not deeply value solitude (which I do) because it is always in the context of not actively, personally relating to another as opposed to being absolutely isolated. In the relative sense I am always relating to something, and this understanding begins to shed some light on the yin and yang of it all. So long as I experience my self, it is always in relation to something else. My study of theology leads me to believe that all of the great faith traditions have this in common: there is always a transcendent Other. Even in my most arrogant, conceited thinking I cannot take credit for having created myself or anything around me. Oh yes, I can witness the constructive—or destructive—use of the raw materials, but the wisest, most intelligent person on Earth cannot honestly say how the whole thing began, only that it did. Metaphysics refers to this as First Cause, what Ernest Holmes called the thing Itself. If my fear of death and my subsequent attempts to avoid it are grounded in not wanting to be genuinely alone, my first step past such thinking is to recognize that it is impossible to ever be alone. Again, alone equals nothing and that just can’t be because there has been, is, and always will be Something.

Born to Die, part twenty-six

Everything is related. Even unknown dimensions are relative to those that are known. It is this relationship between all things that humans experience even if it is misperceived or misinterpreted. Reason, as it turns out, is not infallible (neither are Scripture or Tradition). My measure of myself is relative to whatever I relate to, but the relationship still exists whether or not it is comprehended. And so the fundamental question with regard to my death is if it is the end of relationship. Since relationship is the only thing that I viscerally experience, the loss of it is a fearsome thing. Without relationship one is alone, and since the experience of relationship is the very definition of reality it follows that to be alone is to cease to exist. No relationship equals nothing.

Born to Die, part twenty-five

Whether I know it or not, the universe is unfolding as it should. This line from Desiderata continues to impress me because it is demonstrably true. So it is that I find myself in a position unique to my fifty-eight years by observing Holy Week and Easter alone. Mary is in Lincoln caring for her mother. Rachel and Rebecca are living their adult lives in Flagstaff. Mom and Kim are in Billings and Dad is in Denver. It is a credit to all of these people that for nearly six decades I have been in the company of one or all of them to observe the highest day in Christianity. And the fact that this year will be different has shed light upon the subject of my Lenten journey. Having already arrived at the conclusion that Experience is the most intimately crucial component of the Wesleyan quadrilateral, providence is providing me with the key to human experience: relationship. In his genius Einstein demonstrated that everything is relative, and in order for everything to be relative it must be related. This relationship of all things is what I experience as a human being, and now I realize that the great fear associated with death is not knowing what happens to all those relationships. If it means losing cherished relationships with those I love, then I don’t want to die.

Born to Die, party twenty-four

Experience is the catalytic element of the Wesleyan quadrilateral by virtue of its unique function within the dynamic. Scripture does not experience, per se. Rather, Scripture is experienced via the process of comprehension. Likewise, Tradition does not experience in and of itself. Instead, it becomes manifest through the experience of it. It seems to me that this is true in both the past and future tenses, with experience always occurring in the existential now which I define as the sum of human perception-sensory and transcendental-which translates as being alive.

Drawing a clear distinction between reason and experience is not as simply done. If it can be argued that sentience requires a comprehending intelligence, does it not then follow that intelligence is measured by the ability to reason? As reason functions in the context of authentic experience, the existential, experiential now serves as the eternal moment of comprehension. From this vantage, Scripture and Tradition are actually the products of Experience and Reason (my apology to those who argue for the primacy of Scripture) and as such are codependent in contrast to the dynamic interdependency of Scripture, Tradition and Reason with Experience.

Recalling Descartes’ maxim, I think, therefore I am, all we truly know is the experience of being alive in the moment, and it is the human ability to comprehend our own mortality that fundamentally influences our perception and behavior. If to deny mortality is sinful, then, again, is not reasonable acceptance and preparation for death the way to blessedness? The now is experienced as both precious and sacred when comprehended in the context of mortality, and this in turn generates significance, purpose, and meaning through the recognition of the incomprehensible infinite, the immortal, the eternal, the divine.

Born to Die, part twenty-three

Death comes to us all. This is all that we know for certain. I, nor anyone else, can say what, if anything, happens when we die. Death is the ultimate unknown. Anxiety is clinically defined as fear of the unknown. Therefore, death is that of which we humans are anxiously fearful, and history is replete with accounts of how anxiety-ridden humans that are afraid behave. It’s not an especially pretty picture.

Jack Verheyden, the professor at Claremont School of Theology that instructed our class in the basics of theology defined it as the discussion of ultimate issues. There is no issue more ultimate to human consciousness than death, and so theology becomes, whether we know it or not, the realm within which we deal with our fear and anxiety. Fundamentalist theology does this by constructing concrete suppositions about the nature and “personality” of God which generalize into fabricated images of an afterlife in heaven or hell, etc. What constitute more, in my opinion, progressive theologies have the disadvantage of the abstractness and ambiguity that result from a greater degree of honesty and objectivity—admirable traits, but short on relieving anxious fear.

As western Christianity approaches Holy Week, I hope to examine more closely what Jesus as the Christ informs us about death. It is not by coincidence, I think, that the common thread holding all of his teachings together is this: be not afraid!

Born to Die, part twenty-two

In the beautifully poetic mythology of Hebrew scripture, Cain the farmer murders his brother Abel the shepherd (Genesis 4: 1-16) as his solution to being rejected (or at least his offering) by God. Unless they are willing to concede to incest, literalists have a problem explaining how the family of Man proceeded from a single set of parents. Fortunately, the author(s) of Genesis wasn’t bound to fundamentalism and used rich metaphor to communicate the relationship between Creator and creature. For the purpose of this discussion, however, it is important to note that in an (what we now know failed) effort to selfishly preserve and elevate his own life Cain resorted to imposing death upon another. That scenario has repeated itself ad nauseam from the dawning of our species (see 2001: A Space Odyssey) to the lethal present. In this context, one’s own life is to be preserved at all cost, even to the point of taking the life of another (murder, execution, casualty of war, etc) further reinforcing the notion that death is to be avoided as the ultimate punishment. Is this why I’m going to die? Is it because I failed to live successfully? Is it because I failed to become the sole survivor that I am not granted immortality? How many others must I kill to find favor with God? Must I eliminate all the others in order for God to smile upon me as his only begotten son? Some very strange answers have evolved from the synthesis of scripture, tradition, experience and reason.

Born to Die, part twenty-two

Proceeding from the premise that actions speak louder than words, the occasion that we Americans generally refer to as the funeral speaks volumes about our regard for death. My observation leads me to believe that most of us still regard death as the enemy to be conquered by immortality, the veracity of which will be demonstrated in churches around the world this coming Easter. It was in the 1970 film Little Big Man that I encountered the wisdom of Old Lodge Skins, the Native American character who I feel does a much better job of capturing the spirit of the Christ:

Today is a good day to die.

Come out and fight! It is a good day to die! Thank You for making me a Human Being! Thank You for helpin' me to become a warrior! Thank You for my victories, and for my defeats! Thank You for my vision, and the blindness in which I saw further! You make all things and direct them in their ways, O Grandfather. And now You have decided the Human Beings will soon walk a road that leads nowhere. I am gonna die now, unless death wants to fight. And I ask You for the last time to grant me my old power to make things happen.

[Lies down to die. After a moment, props himself up on his elbows to add:]

Take care of my son here. See that he doesn't go crazy.

PS Happy birthday, Rob!

Born to Die, part twenty-one

Of the estimated 155,000 people who will die today, most will pass anonymously. We never know when death will come to someone in such a way that it will be communicated to the masses. When a pope or president dies, the world hears about it in short order. Arguably the most famous death in history, Jesus of Nazareth, was ironically antithetical to his teaching (insofar as we can decipher it) that every one is precious in the sight of her or his Creator and shares equally in the love bestowed. This is beautifully illustrated in the gospel account of the crucifixion wherein Jesus informs one being crucified with him that they shall enter paradise together. We revere the one death and know absolutely nothing about the other in spite of the Christ’s revelation. We are humans limited by finite understanding, and so it is understandable that we continue to project our own values upon death. We let ourselves believe that some deaths are more important than others, and in so doing generalize the same to be true of life. We let ourselves believe that some deaths are going to be rewarding while others will be punishing and again generalize this to be true of life. I still have no idea of what happens when I die, and the pursuit of an answer from scripture, tradition, experience and reason makes me none the wiser…unless, that is, I find a way to synthesize them all into something that I will call faith.

Born to Die, part twenty

The human proclivity for classification has led to such euphemisms as “died of natural causes.” Our penchant for comparison and contrast then naturally leads to the conclusion that death can be unnatural. Before long we find ourselves at the dichotomous fork in the road of some kinds of death being “good” while others are “bad”. Certainly, if I had a choice, I would opt for a good natural death as opposed to a bad unnatural one, but I’m quickly struck by the fact that the choice is not really mine. We’re living in the strange age of suicide bombers and mass murderers who conclude their rampages with suicide. Other than being a flat out rejection of the “logic” of capital punishment, this phenomenon resurrects (forgive the pun, I just couldn’t help myself) the age old question of whether or not death can be truly qualified. This only has credence in the context of some sort of afterlife, because death as a concrete finality really has no value attached. So, when we treat death as a form of punishment, conquest, etc, we are affirming our belief that there is some sort of judgment awaiting our crossing over. Once again we are in that uncomfortable position of having to explain where such beliefs come from.

Born to Die, part nineteen

In the song Are You Lonesome Tonight?, popularized by Elvis Presley, there are these lines:
But I'd rather go on hearing your lies
Than go on living without you
Upon recently hearing these words it occurred to me that they aptly describe where many of us are at in our relationship with religion, particularly with regard to what the tradition informs us about death. I have openly admitted that I do not know what death is like. In the most primitive sense, it may be like nothing because it is nothing. But for us creatures that have an insatiable curiosity about the unknown, it is more palatable to fabricate some sort of explanation than to endure the anxiety of not knowing. During my years in the active ministry I conducted a number of funerals, and was only told once by the family of a victim of a tragic accident that my words provided no consolation or comfort. That objection was to my failure to offer a concrete depiction of how the deceased was going to heaven to spend eternity with Jesus. I found this exception to be notable because never have I ever offered such assurances formally or informally. This notion of the “pearly gates” cannot be found in the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth, only in the religious traditions that have grown out of the Pauline doctrine of resurrection. While the comfort they offer is understandable, a responsible preparation for one’s own death requires that we examine the “lies” we have heard, and whether to go on living with them is truly the way of the Christ.

Born to Die, part eighteen

The human’s prescient perception of its own death may be arrogantly considered exclusive to the species. Whether or not other creatures comprehend their own mortality is really not the point. That we are able is. I’ve noticed from the site meter that this current series is gradually losing the interest of readers which makes sense when one considers the taboo on death. Our protective society defers the encounter with death to later and later in our development, to the point that when one is confronted by it, it seems ghastly because there has been no reasonable preparation for it. Because humans think, reason, and interpret, I daresay that there is not one of functional intelligence that has not contemplated its own death, but culture and society quickly dictate the flow of thought. Enter explanation. From the dawn of human consciousness a plethora of explanations of what death is, what afterlife consists of, and what it means have been offered by those who assume the theological role. In the stillness of solitude, quietly ponder your own understanding of death. Where did this understanding come from? I suggest that for many of us it came from what we were told. Where we associated a degree of authority to the source, so did we accept the explanation’s veracity. So, when the priest bedecked in liturgical garb proclaims that when I die I’m going to hell (or heaven), I begin to assimilate that point of view into my own. Thus do traditions emerge.

Born to Die, part seventeen

Communication. It’s an integral facet of the human experience. That which is to be communicated is transmitted by one means or another and that transmission is received. Communication theory contends that error or distortion can occur in content, transmission, or reception, and that there is probably some element at work in all three. Human communication is invariably subject to interpretation, a process which again affects content, transmission, and reception, and which is arguably the most accountable for introducing error and distortion. The hermeneutic of literal fundamentalism is paradoxically an interpretation which posits scripture to be free of interpretation. It could be argued ad infinitum that human thought free of interpretation is impossible, but suffice it here to say that anyone who contends that it is possible will be extremely hard-pressed to provide objective evidence. To apply this rationale to the subject at hand, all that can be asserted for certain is that human beings die (cease to exhibit vital signs). From that point on, any speculation concerning value or formula must be recognized for what it is: interpretation. This, of course, includes scripture. So, to conclude that interpretation is subject to more interpretation pretty well describes the human experience, and provides a very basic introduction to the origin of tradition.