“The person who knows only one religion, knows none”
What do you do when the deuces hit the air ducts? Sometimes, things don't go according to plan. In those moments of crisis it's easy to curl up into a little ball or overreact and cause more fallout.
How can leaders navigate a time of crisis with their church, organization, or community? Here are three axioms -- timeless truths -- from seasoned leaders to help you chart the course.
Religion is in the news. No doubt about it. At the same time, religion reporters, sections, and features are often yesterday's news -- tossed to the wayside by major news outlets and undervalued for their contribution.
Is that the full story?
Award-winning religion journalist Bobby Ross Jr. of GetReligion took the time to interview me about my upcoming course on "Religion & the News" and the state of the beat. GetReligion is "an independent website that wrestles with issues of religion-beat coverage in the mainstream press" and the interview covers the course and its value, my background in religion newswriting, the state of the beat, and where I get my religion news.
Having delved into Christianity with the Dante’s Divine Comedy series (Chronicle Books, 2006), artist Sandow Birk is now turning his attention to Islam in the book American Qur’an (Liveright, Nov.). In the book, one of PW's best books of 2015, Birk illustrates the Qur'an, using American life as the backdrop for the sacred writings—from the fields of Iowa to the beaches of Southern California. I had the opportunity to catch up with the graphic artist, who is not religious, to learn more about this nine-year project for publication with Publisher's Weekly.
Along with ghouls and ghosts, bags of candy and ticker-tape versions of things that go bump in the night, this year's Halloween themed décor in grocery store aisles are intermixed with skulls. But these are not just your ordinary cranial bones. Instead, they are bedecked with flowers and glitter, bright golden colors and sombreros.
They are known as "sugar skulls" or calaveras and are associated with Dia de los Muertos, or "Day of the Dead. Dia de los Muertos is a hemispheric American holiday celebrated near the end of October or the beginning of November, with the official celebrations taking place on November 1 and 2 by people in Mexico, Guatemala, the United States, and some other South American nations.
But what are the deeper meanings behind the costumes and the wall-hangings? Is there something more happening here than Halloween furnishings and golden color schemes? Are calaveras a significant aspect of Mexican culture or just a another costume?
“Calavera” is the Spanish word for skull, but calaveras in the context of the Day of the Dead bear extra significance. You see them all around Mexico — in poetry and graffiti murals, on shirts and jewelry, in ancient Mexica (Aztec) carvings and modern sculpture on the city streets.
One celebrant I talked to said, “Calaveras remind us to celebrate life, to appreciate that even death is sacred, is alive. ‘La Muerte’ is inevitable, it is a right of passage, it is a place and moment to be experienced now and in the future. The dead are never gone and we should never neglect them. The inevitable, our fate or whatever you call it, cannot be avoided, it must be embraced and danced with. It can even be sweet.”
The ubiquitous symbols of the Day of the Dead — calaveras, elaborate artistic representations of a dead aristocratic woman (La Catrina) and flowers such as marigolds — not only ordain altars in homes and cemeteries, but now find their way into museums, menus, suburban jack-o-lanterns, art shows, clothing, and Hollywood runways.
“For me El Dia de los Muertos brings my family together to remember and celebrate the life of those past” said Aida Hernandez, a Houston-area Spanish teacher. “To us it is a very spiritual time and not just about the decorations or food.”
Traditionally, the Hispanic holiday is a time for families, neighborhoods and whole towns to come together to remember and celebrate the life of their ancestors, both young and old, and to make offerings (ofrendas) to the deceased. The celebrations are many and varied, but they often include elaborate processionals, graveyard ceremonies, skulls, stories of those passed and parties to celebrate the continuum between life and death.
Influenced by the Roman Catholic celebration of All Saints’ and All Souls’ Days the holiday has its roots in Mayan and Aztec customs and beliefs. The modern manifestation of the Day of the Dead is an amalgamation of various cultural influences both North and South of the border. As MSNBC’s Alyx Kaczuwka reported:
The pre-Hispanic, Mayan and Aztec roots of the Day of the Dead, or Dia de los Muertos, date back at least 3,000 years. Traditionally associated with Mexico, its celebration has also found its way around the world, often blending in local cultural influences with the ancient traditions.
What is really fascinating is how the Day of the Dead is not only an alleviating institution for indigenous and Spanish speaking cultures in the Americas, but also now for el Norte in the co-opting of the holiday’s symbols in U.S. pop culture. Whereas the mestiza/o — mixed race — or Indian community of the Americas originally took the initiative in developing these meaningful mixes as a way to reclaim a sense of agency in a cultural milieu that demeaned their social standing and stripped them of power, now non-Latina/o Americans are embracing the symbology of the celebration as a way to give material voice to the new mestizaje being created in the crucible of contemporary, trans-local, American culture.
As reported by the Associated Press: In the last decade or so, this traditional Latin American holiday with indigenous roots has spread throughout the U.S. along with migration from Mexico and other countries where it is observed. Not only are U.S.-born Latinos adopting the Day of the Dead, but various underground and artistic non-Latino groups have begun to mark the Nov. 1-2 holidays through colorful celebrations, parades, exhibits and even bike rides and mixed martial arts fights.
However, this co-option and adaptation of this traditionally Mexican holiday is not without its misunderstandings and misappropriations. On Facebook, my friend Paola recently shared the following post speaking to her heart and her passion for this holiday. To best understand what the symbols mean, without just dressing up in a costume that seems chic and "authentic," please read her first-hand account below:
“I love Texas and in particular the Houston area because it has a rich mix of culture — you can literally find everything here!
Lately, I have seen grocery stores and some party stores carrying what in Mexico is known as Dia de los Muertos or “Day of the Dead” decorations! I have to admit that I thought it was so cool that my local H-E-B or Kroger [two grocery stores in Texas] care enough to bring my culture to retail.
However as a dear friend of mine pointed out to me, this is not really bringing the Mexican culture to Texas if most of the people do not know what all this means. She is absolutely right! For example, one time I heard somebody saying that all those skeletons were part of a satanic ritual called “Santa Muerte” [though there is a tradition of belief and ritual surrounding “Santa Muerte” it is distinct from the practice of Dia de los Muertos]. I know that most of my friends here have an idea what “Dia de los muertos” is, but I would like to take some time to let you know a little more about it in my own words:
My ancestors believe that the most important journey for us begins after your soul departs from here, however that soul will have one more chance to come and visit its loved ones! Sometimes those souls will forget how to get back “home” so the family will lay a path of familiar things to guide the way (like flowers, favorite food or drinks, incense, candles and pictures). That my ancestors were able to continue doing this for their loved ones, even after the Spanish took so many of traditions away, is incredible!
The sugar skull tradition that seems to be popular right now comes from what we call a “Calavera” or “Catrina” (‘Dapper Skeleton’ or ‘Elegant Skull’), which made its first appearance in 1910 by a famous Mexican printmaker, cartoon illustrator and lithographer name José Guadalupe Posada. The image depicts a female skeleton dressed only in a hat befitting the upper class outfit of a European of her time. She is offered as a satirical portrait of those Mexican natives who, Posada felt, were aspiring to adopt European aristocratic traditions in the pre-revolutionary era. Now does everyone dress and paint their faces like this? I would like to say yes, but the reality is no! Indeed, not everybody in Mexico is proud of being Mexican!
And that’s it, for me this is not just a costume, it is indicative of my culture — its vitality, its survival, its adaptation, its tradition. More than that, I believe that thanks to this tradition I was available to meet many of my relatives that passed away before or shortly after I was born and every time I help in my house to set the offering on the table or every time we went to visit their graves my family talks to us. As we remember funny little stories about them or my grandma will prepare their favorite meals, it is a great way to keep them alive.
So next time you are walking in your grocery aisle and found something “Dia de los muertos” related and you have no idea what is for now you will know a little bit more! #WeAreACulture #NotJustACostume”
It is impossible to think about religion without noticing the news. It is impossible to be a journalist without understanding something about religion. Religion is at the center of multiple headlines & news stories the world over. This course will explore both the production, and reception, of religion in the news investigating what it takes to be on “the God beat” and what kinds of conversations such a beat creates, questions, & critiques.
Such a class, such a conversation, is vitally important in this present moment. Exploring several news site home pages I was able to find religion headlines on every single one -- about conflict in Israel, about burned churches in the Midwest, nature spirituality in the Pacific, abstinence in Britain, Boko Haram terrorists in Nigeria. How do we make sense of these stories? How do we critique the coverage or question the approach of the journalists? How could we play an active part in producing and analyzing such news?
Building off my experiences as a freelance journalist, news analyst, and researcher engaged in the academic study of religion I am offering a course in partnership with the University of Florida's Religion department and Journalism School (one of the Top Ten in the U.S.) -- Religion & the News (REL 3938/JOU 4930).
Weimer Hall at the University of Florida, Gainesville.
This course will cover the importance of religion reporting in age of religious illiteracy & discuss news as a primary portal for knowledge about religion. It aims to give students an opportunity to give voice to why they report on religion, from a personal perspective and familiarize students with the multiple representations and expressions of religion, discussing how we can define religion in a pluralistic age. Students will also get the chance to know what resources, methods, and theories are available for religion newswriting and be given the opportunity to write and publish blogs, articles, and analysis pieces for public consumption. Basically, this is not a passive class with a theoretical end, but an active class with practical and real-time applications and assignments.
The course will be offered Tuesdays 1:55-2:45pm and Thursdays 1:55-3:50pm and more information about registration and course details are available HERE (Course Listings) and HERE (Registration). Interested in auditing the course? Talk to me!
Did Muslims discover Cuba? Is Turkey going to get the chance to fund a mosque in Havana? Can the Castros warm to Islam as they open the doorway for other international relations?
Recently, as part of a special focus on Turkey, I published a chapter in volume 16 of Critical Muslim, a quarterly magazine of ideas and issues showcasing ground breaking thinking on Islam and what it means to be a Muslim in a rapidly changing, interconnected world.
The aim of my chapter is to explore a recent attempt by Turkey’s political leadership to build a mosque in Havana in light of Turkish Islam’s re-emergence on the global scene. Specifically, it is a reflection on this effort’s aims of re-territorializing and re-inscribing Turkish Muslim symbols, as imagined by what I call the nation’s ‘alter-Islamist’ political leaders, on the Cuban landscape as part of a wider endeavor to position Turkey’s “brand” of Islam as a bridge between “West” and “East” (essentially conceived) contra Saudi Arabia in a “cold-war for Sunni hegemony.” In a globalized world it is not possible to consider “Islam in Turkey” in any isolated manner or from a solely national, or even regional, point-of-view. Instead, it is necessary to cast the subject into a greater globalized context with attendant theoretical and methodological considerations. This chapter is an attempt to do so. Therefore, this inquiry will help researchers and the interested public better understand lived and political Islam in Turkey in a global context, involved in a feedback loop with various interlocutors including not only the usual suspects (e.g. the E.U., U.S., Saudi Arabia), but nations typically on the periphery of critical considerations of Islam in Turkey (e.g. Cuba and other Latin American and Caribbean countries).
You can read the article HERE or pre-order a copy of the full text on Amazon.
People. Need. Grace.
Period.
Walk into your church. Step out into the streets. You will find people hurting. Limping along in life. Struggling to understand, and seek out, faith, love, and hope in the midst of the problems of pain, death, and the tension between what is and what ought to be in this world.
Recently I sat down with Pastor Rich Wilkerson Jr., known to many as "Kanye West's pastor."
Wilkerson Jr. burst into the limelight as the hottest holy man around when he officiated the wedding between Kanye West and Kim Kardashian last year. Today, Wilkerson and his wife DawnCheré have a new book; Sandcastle Kings: Meeting Jesus in a Spiritually Bankrupt World (Thomas Nelson, Nov.); a new reality TV show on Oxygen, Rich in Faith; and a new church, VOUS Church, in downtown Miami.
With all the lights, cameras, fast cars, and pop stars, some critics complain that Wilkerson is all cover and no content. Despite the celebrity profile and media attention, the 31-year-old pastor insists that his work is not all style, no substance. “The book, the show, the speaking, the preaching—it’s all growing out of my heart as a pastor of a local church where people can find a place to belong,” he told PW.
Yet, the people he feels called to work with are not your run-of-the-mill church folk. Where some ministry leaders might head to third-world countries, Wilkerson believes his mission is elsewhere.
In Sterling Heights, Michigan the battle over the proposed construction of a mosque precipitated religious and cultural tension between Christians and Muslims. The UN reported that Christian militias are engaged in ethnic cleansing of Muslims in an ongoing Central African Republic civil war. At the same time, over the previous weekend (October 11, 2015) after hearing about armed protests scheduled to take place around mosques throughout the U.S., hundreds came out to rally around their Muslim neighbors in support.
In the midst of all these headlines, I had the pleasure of talking with Michal. She is doing inspiring peacemaking work with Christians and Muslims. She wrote of her calling, “I'm passionate about helping local churches effectively interact with the Muslim community around them; overcoming stereotypes/fears/misunderstandings, share faith and work together for the common good. I do this through my PhD research, the many grassroots events I organize with Muslims and Christians in California, and the documentaries I'm working on.”
While her work is primarily in Southern California, the impact is global. Michal, and her Muslim friend and partner Sondos — who together maintain the site MissUnderstanding.co — are confident that what they do is a significant part of the peacemaking process across the world.
One of the many projects Michal and Sondos are working on is the “People of Peace Documentary.” The project is about Muslims and Christians learning what it means to become friends while staying true to their faith.
In the clip above, twelve Christians visit a local mosque to learn more about their Muslim neighbors. They are paired with a Muslim their age and gender to talk about what their faith means to them. The goal is to talk candidly and openly about any subject.
Interacting with someone from another religion on their terms and at their place of worship or practice is one of the best avenues for better understanding and increased dialogue between people of disparate faiths. Such experiences “re-humanize” the religious “other” more than a lecture, a book, or even an in-class discussion. Beyond learning, students are then able to identify with the religious “other.”
As Yehezkel Landau wrote, “We need to develop educational strategies to overcome the ignorance that leads to prejudice, which in turn leads to dehumanizing contempt, which in turn breeds violence.” Friendships between people of different religious persuasions are not only personally fulfilling, but educationally efficacious and potentially life-changing. Sometimes, people talk just once. Other times, they make lifelong friends and change the world together.
Watch the video to find out more and to consider a program like it with your local masjid or church communities.
When I started blogging I had two readers: my mom and some random dude in Sweden. To say the least, I was a HUGE hit (with that said, my mom did read my posts multiple times, thus amplifying my stats. Thanks mom!). Several years, and multiple blog platforms, later my reach has expanded to include readership across the world and provided opportunities to speak regularly on real-world issues and impact opinions, discourse, and action concerning global Islam, Islam in the U.S., religion and popular culture, and religious literacy in general. It’s been humbling, to say the least.
As an academic — that is, someone who is actively engaged in the academic pursuit of religious studies — I feel that my role as a blogger has never been so important. I also believe that it has never been more pressing for more academics to be engaged with blogging.
There are many reasons and many other academics, involved in religious studies and otherwise, who provide their “why” for blogging as an academic. Dan Cohen, the Executive Director of the Digital Public Library of America wrote, “shaped correctly, a blog can be a perfect place for that extra production of words and ideas.” Russel McCutcheon, Chair of the Religion Department at the University of Alabama, said, “[Blogging] seems to me a logical extension of what I do in all of my professional life: work with others to model a certain way of thinking about human subjects, what they do and what they leave behind after they’re gone — doing that modeling on a public catwalk without a net, where others can be the judges, deciding if they like my style or which struts of their own they’d prefer to use.” He also added that it democratizes the academic discussion of religion and other topics. Finally, I quote Adam T. Miller, a PhD student in the History Religions at the University of Chicago about being a young academic blogger, “I think it’s a good idea to start a blog…to find conversation partners, build a social network, and so forth.” In other words, it might help you get a job. Oh yeah…that.
All of these are relevant and wonderful points when it comes to the why of blogging as an academic. For me I started my blogging career in 2009 with the express purpose of combatting religious illiteracy. Inspired by Stephen Prothero’s Religious Literacy: What Every American Needs to Know — And Doesn’t and goaded by the results of Pew Research Center’s survey of religious knowledge I wrote of my original blog (Ubuntu Spirit), “this blog’s intention is to raise awareness concerning religion, to educate those who desire to understand more about other religions and prayerfully increase dialogue between people of both faith and non-faith in an effort to better understand one another in today’s (post)modern age.”
The game is still the same. I write for the same reasons and I am actively working on inviting, encouraging, and prodding other academics in the field of religious studies (or related fields such as history, anthropology, sociology, cognitive science, psychology, etc.) to start blogging as well.
Recently, I had the opportunity to share the why, what, and how of academic blogging at a Digital Humanities Seminar at the University of Florida. I’m happy to say that three or four new academic blogs are emerging out of this seminar in addition to students and instructors looking to integrate blogging and the use of social media into their classroom experience (thanks in large part to discussion material from Michael J. Altman, kudos sir). The topics will range from religion, embodiment and performance to intentional communities and material religious culture. In other words, they are all going to be très interesting and bloody brilliant! Plus, they are going to contribute valuably to a vital conversation concerning religion and culture.
More still needs to be done. In fact, maybe you need to start your own blog. With increased attention being given to the integration of digital humanities into the academic toolkit, the ubiquitous nature of technology in academic contexts, and the increased relevance of social media to news dissemination and analysis it’s the perfect time to do so.
Are you an academic — employed or otherwise, young or seasoned, tenure-track or adjunct, armchair or in-the-field? Get engaged. Start a blog. Become part of the conversation. Here’s what you can do and how you can get started:
1) Jump on a platform.
2) Design your blog & establish your brand.
3) Connecting with resources.
4) Start writing!
So that’s that. The WHY. WHAT. HOW of “blogging like an academic.” I could probably write more, but I want to stay within my own expressed word limit. So peace. I’m out. Go start a blog already.
The rāpaki that Jude Te Punga Nelson made for the Pīhopa o te Hāhi Rūtana o Aotearoa, the Bishop of the Lutheran Church of New Zealand (PHOTO: Mark Whitfield)
This guest post is from Rev. Mark Whitfield, the Pīhopa o te Hāhi Rūtana o Aotearoa, the Bishop of the Lutheran Church of New Zealand. Not only is he a personal friend, but he is a mentor in ministry and a leader who I am fascinated with for his attempts at being a pioneering bricoleur among Lutheran-Christians in New Zealand.
In his own words, Whitfield is, "keen for members of te Hā Rūtana o Aotearoa (the Lutheran Church of New Zealand) to acknowledge the beautiful language of our indigenous people" or "the Māori." More than language, Whitfield is also ambitious to integrate Māori language and culture into the rituals and practices of the Lutheran church.
This post is an example of one of his efforts and is posted here as a case of cultural/religious bricolage, trans-creation, and hybridity between Māori custom and meanings & Lutheran pākehā (people of European descent) rituals and culture -- merging the rāpaki, or "Māori kilt," and the alb, stole, and liturgical vestments of a Lutheran bishop.
His motivation stems not only from the ethnic make-up of the LCNZ, which includes Māori, Pākehā, and other immigrant groups including Chinese, Polynesian immigrants, and more, but also from New Zealand's history. For most of Aotearoa's history, the two primary cultures, Māori and Pākehā, have existed in tension. Conflict and confrontation often prove more common than collaboration. Whitfield is, in many ways, trying to navigate this tension and build bridges between multiple cultures as part of one church.
The shoulder cloaks, or rāpaki, were the principal clothing of the Māori and were woven harakeke worn from waist to knee or sometimes placed upon the shoulders. They are made of a woven base (kaupapa) and hung with tags (hukahuka). I will let Rev. Whitfield tell the rest of this story of "the love of God for the people" in his own words:
Kia tau ki a koutou te atawhai me te rangimarie o te Atua!
願 父 神 所 賜 的 恩 惠 和 平 安 與 你 們 同 在
Grace and peace to you from God!
Shortly after the Church asked me to be Bishop in June 2011, my dear friend Jude Nelson (Te Punga) from Palmerston North told me that she had been called by God to make a Māori cloak for me to wear, especially for formal occasions.
At various times during the past 4 years Jude has updated me on her progress, and each time we have spoken about this, I have felt quite moved at this gesture of love and appreciation for me.
Rev. Mark Whitfield leading liturgy with the Rapaki at the LCA Convention & Synod (PHOTO: Tim Wiebusch)
On Sunday afternoon, 27th September, during a short and beautiful rite including song, scripture, prayer and blessing at John and Jude’s home at Bunnythorpe near Palmerston North, Jude gave me the Rapaki (cloak worn around the shoulder) she had made. It is called Te Aroha o Atua mo te Tangata (The Love of God for the People).
I was deeply moved as I received this gift from Jude, who has been an almost life-long friend and as Pastor Rodger Russ, John, Jude, their daughter Rachel and our youngest daughter Charlotte prayed with me. These are the words that Jude spoke to me as she presented me with the Rapaki:
“This Rapaki (short cloak worn around the shoulders) has been made for you and it is given to acknowledge your contribution to and love for the Lutheran Church of New Zealand.
It is named “Te Aroha O Atua mo te Tangata” meaning “The love of God for the People.”
The free swinging portion of the cloak depicts a piano or organ keyboard and speaks to your love for music and acknowledges your God-given gift. The pokini (rolled hard lowest portion of the cloak) have been etched with thirteen stripes; these represent Christ and his disciples. There are seven almost hidden triple pokini which allude to the Creation and depicts the Triune nature of God. The pokini will clap together as you move creating more music in your life.
The Taniko (finger twined) is a very old pattern found in S.M. Mead’s book “Te Whatu Taniko.” The colours are chosen to show the darkness of our sin contrasting with the pure and holy whiteness of God. The red stitches are the sacrificed blood of the Lamb that flows from the cross.
Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. Isaiah 53:4-5
There are thirteen white stitches in each pattern. These are also the colours of my Kapa Haka group from my childhood “Mawaihakona” Māori Club in Upper Hutt.
Put on the full armour of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Ephesians 6:11-12”
I wore this for the first time in public as Pīhopa o te Hāhi Rūtana o Aotearoa, the Bishop of the Lutheran Church of New Zealand, during the Opening Worship Service for the General Convention of Synod of the Lutheran Church of Australia (LCA) in Brisbane.
I will be honoured to wear this beautiful cloak as your servant-leader, and to be reminded each time I wear it, of my call to the ministry of God’s grace and love; the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Tēnā koe, Jude; thank you.
From the news headlines over the past year you’d think that the news about Muslims mainly consists of ISIS, Charlie Hebdo, Qur’an controversies, the occasional Muslim holiday, and lately the bigoted opinions of some presidential candidates.
Stories in the media that imply that Islam is all about violence, Mohammad cartoons, or subjugating women and non-Christians to harsh impositions of Sharia law, not surprisingly find a big audience in the U.S.
But what are the stories that matter to Muslims?
Once upon a time, I wrote a master's thesis with Concordia University Irvine. Now, I am in a PhD program continuing my study of Latina/o Muslims in the U.S., Latin America, and the Caribbean. I am interested in the ways in which Latina/o Muslims come to take the shahadah and how they shape, and are shaped by, Islam via local Muslim communities and transnational connections.
This paper, published in the University of Waikato's Islamic Studies Review, is a result of my master's research and explores the narratives and pathways to conversion that Latina/o Muslims take to Islam. It also reveals a bit more about their demographics, their organizations, and their sentiment.
I humbly submit this work to wider scrutiny, scholarly critique, and feedback from the Latina/o Muslim community that has been so helpful and hospitable as I've conducted research.
The alien abduction. The specter in the basement. The creature under the bed. The numinous feeling in the face of nature or thoughts of eternal, external, and effervescent consciousness.
Real? Not real? What do you think?
In a recent interview with Jeffrey J. Kripal, the Religious Studies Project talked with the man who holds the J. Newton Rayzor Chair in Philosophy and Religious Thought at Rice University about his recent works Mutants and Mystics: Science Fiction, Superhero Comics, and the Paranormal (Chicago, 2011) and Authors of the Impossible: The Paranormal and the Sacred (Chicago, 2010).
In these works, Kripal shared how participation in what we call “the sacred” is a critical element that undergirds religious understanding and activity. From his perspective, human consciousness qualifies, as well as anything else, as “the sacred” itself, and must therefore be addressed and wrestled with by any self-respecting student of religion.
Particularly, Kripal argued that generally marginalized authors who have attempted to theorize the paranormal be treated as central to the religious project, even though their work deals with marvels deemed outside both mainstream scientific and/or religious parameters.
I had the opportunity to respond to Kripal from an ethnographic point of view and, in the midst of this response, to share my own paranormal experience. Enjoy the rest of the article and join the conversation by clicking below:
*This is a guest post from Michal. Together with her friend Sondos the pair post on the site MissUnderstanding: Two Faiths, One Friendship. The blog is, "a space where Michal and Sondos will post their reflections — independently and jointly — on what it means to be a practicing Christian and practicing Muslim while building a foundation of mutual respect and understanding." Reading through their reflections, their honest musings, and personal lessons is refreshing. It challenges individuals on all sides -- believing or not, liberal or conservative -- to consider what it means to build relationships across religious and social boundaries to find something beautiful and more fulfilling than what the popular, but misplaced, "us v. them" divides often do.
That theme is a regular motif on this site. Thus, I invited Michal to repost a guest blog for this site, in which she talks about "what is ours to do?" when we see/hear disparaging news from the Middle East, which is unfortunately so relevant amidst news from Syria, Iraq, Palestine, Yemen, and elsewhere. Thank you Michal.
Michal and Sondos of MissUnderstanding.co
Watching the news about the Middle East each day is overwhelming, to say the least. Muslims and Christians (and many other groups!) face death, loss of family and friends, property and dignity. The suffering and pain is indescribable. Several close friends in the region are doing very brave work providing in medical, educational and spiritual help wherever they can. The work is overwhelming, but they push on and make a difference. I am very inspired by them.
So much so that I have strongly contemplating leaving my life in the US to join them. I especially wanted to help refugee kids like in the picture above that I used for a research project on Syrian children. Part of that desire was coming out of a growing love in my heart and another was coming out of guilt. I felt bad for my comfortable life in the West and wanted to do what my friends did in the Middle East.
However, upon praying and investigating it further, I did not get confirmation from God that it was my time to go. It is clear that He has work for me to do here in the West right now. Still, I couldn’t help feeling disappointed and unsure what I needed to do with the strong urge to want to do something.
I shared my feeling of helplessness with my friends in the region and they assured me that I could definitely help. Here are three things they suggested:
First off, they asked for prayer. God can do things we think are impossible! A second would be to get educated. They advised me to read from different sources about what is going on and seek to get a first-hand account from people that are living in the region. Lastly would be to support organizations that do great work in the area. Many of them are extremely underfunded. I prefer to focus on organizations that do not only help their own faith community, but anyone and everyone that is in need.
One such organization is Preemptive Love. They provide heart-surgeries, refugee relief and business development for Iraqis, Syrians, Libyans, Pakistanis and on and on. My favorite part is that they have wonderful stories of Muslims and Christians working together for peace and healing, stories that are often not heard in mainstream media.
The funny thing is that these hopeful stories encourage me in my work of peacemaking in the US. If Muslims and Christians can make peace with each other right in ISIS’s backyard, what is stopping us?
We cannot all go to the Middle East and help out, although I pray many will and I can go one day as well. However, we are all shaped uniquely and can all help in a small, yet still very significant way. It starts with one courageous prayer a mentor of mine taught me to pray… we ask God: "What is mine to do?"
On Tuesday September 22, 2015 his eminence Pope Francis arrives in Washington D.C. after some time in Cuba. That's when TONS of people are going to freak. The hell. Out.
Some people already are. Especially in Philly, where Pope Francis will be spending the final two days of his whirlwind tour of the U.S., which will include rides through Central Park, face time with President and Michelle Obama, a speech at the UN, and a nap or two.
Evidence of #Popemania is everywhere in the City of Poperly...I mean...Brotherly Love. There are Pope tee-shirts, papal bobbleheads, & Francis themed beer events all over Philadelphia. For those with an eye for sighting significant moments in religion & culture (as are all of us here at the site) the question is: what's going on here?
The answer: for those purchasing all this papal kitsch, these items are visible and tangible representations of their innermost commitments, whatever those commitments may be, Catholic or not, Christian or otherwise. It doesn't take faith to take a piece of Francis home with you.
All this Pope Francis bric-a-brac stands in a long line of "Jesus Junk" and other examples of material Christianity. Peruse through any Christian bookstore, or a lot of Hot Topics, and you'll soon find jewelry, art, lunch boxes, shirts, hats, and all types of Christian kitsch featuring Jesus + some clever co-option of pop culture from Testamints to breaking-chains magic tricks (for reals...I've got photographic proof -->).
While critics from within the faithful decry such products as trivial and an exchange of profit for piety, the Bible Bars and Jesus toys remain surprisingly popular. For the everyday evangelical, these items permit them to bridge the private and the public, church life and everyday life, living life between, and among, sacred sodalities and profane populations. For them, Jesus Junk isn't junk at all -- it's a means to live their Christian faith "out loud" and to reflect the interweaving of their faith with politics, pop culture, and economics.
Although these items may be less than refined and in many ways profane that which is sacred, most Christians don't critically think about these things. Indeed, for them, identifying themselves as Christian and doing Christianity in word and deed, shirt and Holy Spirit Snuggie™ is the real deal. These religious objects offer many an immediacy of contact that is personal, physical, and easily perceivable. For the "Christian kitsch" faithful, it simply means more than creeds; it says more than confessions.
But what about Pope Francis? Here, the matter seems a bit different. There are Catholics and non-Catholics, Christians and agnostics, cueing up to get hold of Pope Francis gear. If this marketable material Christian kitsch is meant for the faithful to wear, touch, and see their innermost convictions, what does it mean when an agnostic into Zen Buddhism is sporting a, "The Pope is my Homeboy" bro tank?
While he has his detractors from conservative and liberal circles alike, overall Francis is "the feel good Pope." His rhetoric and actions on the environment, international relations, justice movements, and compassion to the poor appeal to a broad audience. Not to mention his sheer Weberian-charisma factor. Basically, Francis is cool. He's hip. He appeals to people regardless of their faith tradition because he speaks to values that people of multiple faiths, and no faith, hold in common.
Thus, the papal souvenirs do allow people -- Catholic or agnostic, Protestant or Muslim -- a way to identify themselves with the “Francis Effect,” without all those pesky religious trappings or conundrums of being Catholic, and yet still give visible, physical, representation of their convictions about compassion and justice, the environment and international relations.
Yet, as Archbishop Gomez of the Archdiocese of Los Angeles said at the recent Religion Newswriters Association conference, "to understand Pope Francis you must wrestle with his theology, not just political and social tangents." Perhaps, along with all this pop-culture hubbub surrounding the Pope's visit, people who might associate themselves with the Pope with a beer and a slice of pizza (see slideshow below) will finally get to wrestle with more than the feeling of Pope Francis and more with the philosophy of the man who leads the largest religious institution in the world. Perhaps then he will be less a homeboy and more of a holistic spiritual and physical leader. In the meantime...on to the Papal Toast!
"Tyler, you are by far the most interesting single-serving friend I have ever met,” said Edward Norton’s “everyman” character to Brad Pitt’s Tyler Durden in the film Fight Club. He was referring to the “single-serving” portions given to you on flights and using it to refer to a "friend" you meet once, for example on a plane, and never see again.
Perhaps, by extension, airport chapels could be thought of as “single-serving sanctuaries” built for “single-serving devotion.” Or, maybe there is more to airport chapels and their role in U.S. spirituality than we at first give them credit for.
Around 65 years ago the first airport chapel opened in Boston’s Logan Airport — Our Lady of the Airport. Now, as PewResearch Center reported, “more than half of the nation’s busiest airports have dedicated chapels, and many of these facilities offer a variety of worship services for different faith traditions.” Whence, thousands of fliers facing crises, nervous about the journey, or seeking solace, intercession, or sleep find their way in, and into, these “single-serving sanctuaries.”
Far from the dismissive language of “single-serving” slang, airport chapels provide a template for exploring major trends in American religion. Their popularity, and their place in our religious landscape, exhibit the pluralistic, plastic, and transnational characteristics that typify U.S. spirituality today.
While some airports provide facilities for specific religious groups, the majority of airport chapels are interfaith spaces. And, unlike specifically dedicated churches, chapels, synagogues, or masjids these interfaith spaces require a form that functions for various theologies, practices, and religious material.
Walk into Houston Hobby’s airport chapel near baggage claim and you’ll find a nondescript “tree of life” stained glass backlit by halogens and a small kneeling altar backed by about 16 plush chairs in rows of four. There’s a small bookshelf with Bibles in various languages, some Qur’ans, and a Tanakh. Sitting on top are rosaries and a folded musallah — or prayer rug.
As Courtney Bender of Columbia University noted, “multi-faith modernist spaces” such as airport chapels “are poised at the nexus of two often countervailing ideals”: a desire to design space that anyone could recognize and experience as “sacred” and to accommodate the multiple and specific bodies, actions, and materials that people using the space require to pray as they know how.
This dialectic, she wrote, could perhaps preclude the emergence of “a new kind of prayer” that could resonate with the modern manner in which many people believe, think, act, and move in their private lives, homes, and places of ritual devotion.
It follows that these interfaith spaces could stand at the vanguard of a new type of ritual religious space that is ever more defined by the fluid, smorgasbordian, and pluralistic landscape of American religion. A religion that not only shapes belief, but bodies and spaces such as chapels in contested and common places such as airports.
Orlando Airport's spiritual smorgasboard of pamphlets (PHOTO: Ken Chitwood).
As can be deduced from the above, airport chapels are not passive places, but well-used active centers for religious and spiritual expression, respite, and need. Rather than being a sideshow in American religion, they might be perceived as one of its red-hot centers exhibiting the plastic religion that evermore defines U.S. faithways.
Just ask the airport chaplains that serve to meet the spiritual needs of travelers and airport employees. Scott McCartney, who interviewed several airport chaplains for a spot on NPR, said:
“…they counsel people through the stress of flying in daily living…encountering a chaplain on the way is part of that ministry of outreach. They do plenty of practical things, giving people directions, helping them when they run out of money, even lobbying on their behalf with airlines. When people get stuck or stranded, airport chaplains know the managers for the different airlines at the airport and can help them find accommodations or maybe get a cheap fare to get home.”
Airport chapels, and by extension airport chaplains, serve the many needs of the wayward traveler. They are quintessential examples of America’s plastic spirituality, characterized by malleable and moldable religious material — beliefs, bodies, substance and spaces — that can be shaped into myriad forms by multiple actors.
Personally, I’m an airport sleeper. Rather than renting a hotel room for a few hours I’ll often find a shady spot in an airport to lay my head for the night or on a long layover. If an airport has a chapel, that’s the first place I’ll look for a quiet place to stretch out. Sleeping in the back-row of one airport chapel I was surprised at how little rest I received — there were so many people coming in and out for prayer, repose, and personal time. I witnessed salat and singing, meditation and one man making origami.
We all found “home” — if only for a moment — in the airport chapel through various means, moments, materials, and bodily positions. And again, rather than this being peripheral to our religious experience, it evermore defines how we approach religion and spirituality in a world in constant flux.
Which brings me to the final point: that religion is often defined by movement of people, ideas, and materials across national boundaries and global “scapes” of politics, economics, technologies, geographies, and ideologies.
Orlando International’s airport chapel exemplifies this characteristic. Sitting betwixt and between the constantly moving monorails that transport travelers back-and-forth from hub to terminal, the chapel is often overlooked. I get the opportunity to travel out of Orlando frequently. Often, I will take a moment to grab a coffee and observe the comings-and-goings of travelers who take a moment in the chapel.
St. George's Interfaith Airport Chapel, Heathrow, London (Wikimedia Commons).
Lately, I’ve seen a lot of Puerto Ricans and I’ve talked to a few. They stop for a moment to thank God, bless Mary, and pray that their journeys would start/end well. Frequently, they are less concerned about the air travel and more so about migration and moving for the sake of work in the midst of the Enchanted Isle’s flailing economy. Some are coming to the U.S. for work, some are heading home to help others, many criss-cross the Caribbean to live lives in both places and make ends meet. They, like the chapel they seek solace in, must now live betwixt-and-between multiple places and people. Not only do they take their religion with them, but it shapes the journey they take.
If they make their way to the altar in the chapel they will find a prayer card provided by Father Bob Susann that includes a “Prayer for Travelers.” If airport chapels testify to the smorgasbord faith of Americans that is plastic and on the move, then this prayer becomes a common oration as religious travelers of all sorts pray for safety heading for their many destinations, accompaniments of consolation and encouragement, patience and deep respect for all those with whom they travel, and finally an invocation to finally, when the journey is ended, to arrive at home — even if that may be in the space of a “single-serving sanctuary.”
'Pastrix' Nadia Bolz-Weber offers up a vision of the Christian community that is marred, scarred, and full of murderous mercy. (Photo: YouTube capture)
Exhausted from a double-header of liturgy and preaching, Caleb came running up to hand me his Sunday-school artwork. It was a mosaic. Of sorts. He had attempted to craft a paper-maché and mixed media mosaic of the loaves and two fishes from the Tabgha chapel in the Sea of Galilee region in Israel.
Let us, to say the least, admit that Caleb is no Da Vinci. Perhaps more of a Picasso, but no classical artist for sure. The elementary mosaic had glue in all the wrong places, empty spaces, and roughly cut pictures of random loaves and cartoon fish.
Fine art it was not. But it was beautiful.
Like the Christian church itself it was muddled, misshapen, and makeshift. Naturally, I loved it for what it was and cherished it for what it represented for me — the fluky, flailing, and often times frightful church I find myself a part of.
In her latest book — Accidental Saints: Finding God in All the Wrong People — Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber has written a story of her church, and the Church, that is raw, honest, and full of grace in all its visceral glory. If her last work, Pastrix, was her personal narrative told through life in community at House for All Sinners and Saints (HFASS) — the church she planted in Denver, CO — then Accidental Saints is the story of that community told through the personal lens of its “pastrix," Nadia Bolz-Weber.
What Bolz-Weber reveals is challenging, gender-bending, and boundary breaking for those with stricter, or more conventional, conceptions of why the Church exists, what it is, and who is part of it.
It is the story of saints who don’t quite fit the conformist molds and the account of their pastor who is broken, grace-filled, and transparent as she wrestles with God’s favor poured out on unlikely individuals and blessing coming through unorthodox benefactors.
That’s because, for Bolz-Weber, ‘saints’ = people who have accidentally stumbled into redemption. She wrote that all of us can, and in many ways already are, saints. In what can be the closest thing to an evangelistic appeal from Bolz-Weber, she said, “God wants you, you in your imperfect, broken, shimmering, glory.”
Grace is the central theme of Bolz-Weber’s work; but it ain’t your grandmother’s grace. Claiming she is “not bound by legalism and shame” Bolz-Weber proclaims “the freedom of a Christian” that is found in a grace-filled community of brokenness, imperfection, and stumbling, bumbling, inefficient, healing.
She talks about “the sting of grace.”
“It’s powerful, but it’s offensive at the same time, because it’s not fair, and it doesn’t work into our notions of justice. It changes us, and it’s what we need, but it doesn’t mean it feels good,” she said.
Reflecting on the book, Bolz-Weber added, “what I hope is that people would read this book and see [the glory of God in the midst of our crap] and realize how transformative it can be.”
Of course, this grace cannot be experienced outside of community. And community is central to the story of Bolz-Weber and HFASS. She said, “the beautiful, radical grace that flows from the heart of God to God’s broken and blessed humanity” is impossible outside community.
With that said, Bolz-Weber categorically does not offer up HFASS as a shining example for others to follow, nor does she want onlookers or spiritual tourists banging on her church’s door. Instead, she offers up the stories of her community of fractured selves as an example in radical, grace-filled, failure. She said, “I think we’re in a time in the life of the church where stories of failure are so much more important than stories of success.”
Why? Because that’s where resurrection comes in. Sometimes it comes like a beautiful song, other times like a brick through a window. Bolz-Weber said plainly that sometimes, “God’s mercy is a blunt instrument…the kind that kills the thing that wronged it and resurrects something new in its place.”
As far as the potential “unorthodoxy” of her views and the condemnation that comes from many corners of evangelicalism, and her own Lutheran tribe, she doesn’t seem too flustered. Instead, she marches boldly on in “Christian freedom” and doesn’t worry about the haters. Affirming that she is categorically not “a Christian apologist” Bolz-Weber is just doing her thing. All the while, she claims herself as a “pretty orthodox Lutheran theologian.”
Even so, she said, “Belief is going to be influenced by all sorts of things that I have nothing to do with, so I don’t feel responsible for that. I’m responsible for what [people] hear…the Gospel.”
For that matter, she sees herself as just another “accidental saint” with flaws, inoperative parts, and regular failures. If people get pissed about her colored language or her unusual take on things, so be it. Let the naysayers call her a sinner, a heretic, a pastrix. “I think that God’s work in the world is and has always been done through sinners,” she said.
She closed, “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
*This is a guest post from Megan Geiger, an Apostolic Pentecostal who shares her perspective with Kim Davis, the Rowan County, Kentucky court clerk who defied a U.S. Federal Court order requiring the issuing of marriage licenses to same-sex couples. She has been the center of a serious controversy for the last two weeks.
Dear Sis. Davis,
Before I say anything else, I want to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that your life has come under such intense scrutiny. I’m sorry that your every word, and those of your husband, have become fodder for memes and tweets, that your picture is on every news feed across the country, and that your past has been brought forward for the world to see. I’m sorry that your work place, which I’m sure is full of people who you care about, routines with which you are comfortable, and actions that are familiar and fulfilling, has become a battleground. I’m sorry that you are experiencing the trial of imprisonment, which is painful for any human. I genuinely wish you were not going through this unsightly mess. I genuinely hope this situation will work out in the best way that it can for you.
However, I need to tell you something that may hurt you, and which will certainly make your many supporters question my motives and my spirit. I’m a believer in the same way that you are, and so what I’m about to say may seem confusing, or contradictory, or spiteful. At best, many will regard me as a young person under the influence of the liberal culture by which I am surrounded. At worst, they will say that I’m under the influence of Satan.I’ll leave it to you to decide.
I am an Apostolic Pentecostal. And I do not stand with you.
Many have said that what you are doing is brave, and I agree—it takes strength to face prison in defense of a worthy cause. The problem is, I don’t believe your cause to be worthy.
When you accepted a position in our nation’s government, you no doubt took an oath of loyalty, or of submission to a certain set of rules.Your position requires you to submit to not just the written laws of our nation, but to the spirit that guides them, to the bureaucracy that manages them, and to the men and women who establish them. When you were given a desk and a nameplate, you were given a commission by this government, to serve and to follow. You made that choice.
I know that when you chose to become a clerk, you probably never foresaw the conflict in which you are now embedded. Even as the stirrings of Pro-LGBTQ legislation began to rise, you probably put your trust in the Lord and rested in the hope that our government would never allow the Christian principle of heterosexual marriage to pass out of its law books. You could not have seen this coming, and you certainly could not have stopped it.
Here is the issue: you pledged your allegiance and service to a non-Christian government. You are the servant of a non-Christian public. And that was your choice.
Kim Davis has courted controversy over her refusal to deny marriage licenses to same-sex couples. Not only that, but she has made many fellow Apostolic Pentecostals uncomfortable with the way she represents their faith in the public sphere. (Photo: Wikimedia)
The United States may have been founded by a group of Protestants, but it is no longer a nation governed by Christian principles. In fact, if we take Biblical prophecy seriously, it never will be. As Christians,we have the burden and the blessing of being a light of holiness in an ever-darkening world, and as we draw closer to His coming, we will continue to stand out more and more as symbols of his purity and goodness. However, the Bible does not guarantee us that our government will stand with us.
We call ourselves Apostolic, which means that we are called to live like the first century church. The first century church existed in a time when it was illegal to be a Christian, when worshiping Christ meant the high likelihood of a painful, early death. Early Christians endured in the midst of a government that not only despised their culture and practices, but one that literally sought to destroy them.
As of yet, our government has not begun to persecute us in the same way. We are still free to worship openly, to choose our candidates and our political positions based on our interpretations of His Word. We are free, as Christians, to assert that marriage is between one man and one woman and to encourage others to see the same truth.
But you, Sister, are not free to disobey the master to whom you pledged allegiance. At least, you can't do that and expect to stay in your desk. You have the right to believe what we believe as a citizen of the United States. But as our nation’s public servant, you do not have the right to sever your oath of allegiance because of your beliefs. Your roles as a Christian and a servant of our government are no longer compatible, and as you know, it's impossible for a man to serve two different masters.
My heart is broken about this, not just because of your discomfort and anxiety. I am broken because you have become the face of Apostolic Pentecostalism all over this country, and you are now being used by the World as a symbol of homophobia, ignorance, and hate. I don't believe you to be guilty of any of those things, but I have to say that your choice to loudly rebel against your employer has caused us a few problems.
I look like you. I have uncut hair and a long skirt. I worship with the same fervor. I feel the same Spirit. And now when I try to reach out to gay students on my campus, to liberal-minded young people, to non-Christians, they will not see my face. They will not hear my message of Christ’s love, of his forgiveness, of his everlasting mercy. They will not see me.
Instead they will look at my hair and my skirt and they will see a stereotype. They will avoid our church because they will expect it to be full of homophobia, and ignorance, and hate. They will put up barriers. They will build walls.
What you have done, Sister, is brave. But I question whether it is wise, and I fear the consequences.
I send you my prayers. I send you my hope for comfort, and for peace. I send you my deep and sincere apologies for what you must be feeling. But I do not send you my support.
May our Savior give you favor with judges, a sentence that is not debilitating, and a lifetime of peace after this storm.
In Christ,
Megan Geiger
Slamming sledgehammers. Toppling statues. Decimated artifacts. Detonating charges that flash in an instant, but destroy centuries of history. The images coming out of Palmyra, Syria, Mosul, Iraq, and other locations in the Levant viscerally illustrate how al-Dawla al-Islamiyya (a.k.a. ISIS, ISIL, IS, Daesh) is destroying shrines, statues, and sundry other artifacts as they establish their version of a caliphate in Syria and Iraq. Reports and live video have flooded in over the past few months showing so-called Islamic State (IS) militants wrenching artifacts from museum walls, imploding sacred shrines and churches, and reducing historic effigies to rubble.
The most recent reports declare that the militants destroyed a UNESCO world heritage site & temple at Palmyra. While scholars and curators have come forth to attest that the some of these relics are replicas and that many more precious artifacts are hidden (indeed, an 82 year old curator was killed for keeping this information secret), there is still a potent sense of lost history and heritage in what some have termed, “horrific acts of vandalism” being perpetrated by IS.
The question is WHY? Could it be that underlying ISIS's destruction of temples and statues is a strain of doubt -- wondering if there is a God out there at all?
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