community

[February 2012 Synchroblog] Economic Inequality: Coming Back to Our Senses

February 7, 2012

church and culture, community, conversations, generative Christianity, Kingdom, politics, social justice, spiritual formation, stuff to ponder, Synchroblog

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Our Synchroblog this month explores the ever-expanding gap between rich and poor in our country and others. Reports show that this gap is has reached its highest level in 30 years. One only needs to look at history to see that money equals power in this world. And when so much power is in the hands of a few, the many are disadvantaged. The extremely poor are even more at a disadvantage. Dr. Cornel West says, “Poverty is an economic catastrophe, inseparable from the power of greedy oligarchs and avaricious plutocrats indifferent to the misery of poor children, elderly citizens and working people.”

I didn’t want to be part of this blog. It gives me a pain in the gut to think about these things. I have seen few issues create more anger and divisiveness than this one. I have seen it turn seemingly civil and kind people into raging, snarling foes. Even for those who can contain their anger, there remains a certain unwillingness to see the plight of others who are impacted by their views. And I have no solutions. I do believe that re-regulating Wall St.* and insisting that the very rich and the big corporations pay their fair share in taxes is the right thing to do. That’s just common sense. But I don’t know how to change our love for this beast that ensnares our lives. We need to try. There are over 2,000 verses in the Bible that reference the poor. That’s a significant clue that this is supposed to matter.

In all honesty, all I know to do is call out to the church, for we are the embodiment of Jesus now. Jesus turns power upside-down. He is the one who takes an axe to the roots of systems that exploit and oppress. Like Jesus, we are the persistent little stream of water that gradually softens the rock hard foundations of the structures of power. I don’t know so much about what to do, but I do think we can explore who we are meant to be.

I have come to believe that money stands in opposition to the Kingdom. There is nothing else about which Jesus gave such an explicit warning. He made it very plain in the Sermon on the Mount: “No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money.” (Mt. 6:24) Jesus is rarely so dualistic in his thinking. But here He is very plain. It’s either/or.

Money seems to break down the very essence of who we are meant to be as human beings. It disembodies our faith. It quickly divides us into the haves and have-nots, distancing us from the realities of each others’ lives. The money/power thing exposes how one of the saddest questions in the scripture has played out throughout time: “Am I my brothers’ keeper?” With the heart of Cain, our answer is a loud and definitive, no. We do write out our checks to a local charity or dish out food at a homeless shelter. But truthfully, we are the jealous workers in the vineyard, so afraid that someone will get something they don’t deserve, especially when we’ve worked so hard.

We have forgotten that the source of the goods we produce buy and sell were never ours to begin with. We are divorced from the acts of others in our communities that make it possible for us to work at all, to manufacture, create, transport materials, or buy and sell anything. The further away we have moved from tilling the earth to forth food in order to survive, the more disembodied our lives and services have become. Trading stocks and making decisions that affect the lives of millions have become an a-moral acts, truly distanced and disconnected from the men, women and children who are affected. Finally, we have dared to believe that what we have earned is our own. We have hidden ourselves away from any reminder that in truth we all are needy, dependent people because our very ability to think and create and work comes from God from the start.

Christianity involves coming back to ourselves as a whole. Jesus is not just a ticket to heaven, but the means of reconciliation and restoration to a communal life of Shalom, which is a community of universal flourishing, wholeness and delight**. Even the Our Father prayer invokes community. Together we say, “Give US this day OUR daily bread.” This Jesus thing is all about being intimately connected with the needs and realities of the other.

In small ways and within small groups, some things are beginning to change. Churches are connecting with those who create community gardens for themselves and others in need. This allows for the dignity of taking part in working for all, as well. Interest is growing in establishing more local, sustainable food supplies. There is a renewed interest in handmade goods and skills. People are simplifying their lives and getting rid of stuff. With less to protect, perhaps we’ll have more to share. With less to protect, we may recover faith in a new way. We might actually remember what it means to trust for our daily bread, trusting God by trusting each other. Maybe we’ll also remember what is means to be grateful.

In light of all this, I celebrate a woman with a level of faith I don’t know yet: Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents. Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”

[*Seriously, how did de-regulation happen? Was everyone asleep? That de-regulation happened was a clear example of the power wielded by those with extreme wealth.]
[** The word shalom is described in "Not The Way It’s Supposed to Be: A Breviary of Sin", by Cornelius Plantinga, Jr.]

LInks to the other Synchrobloggers will be added as they come in:

Marta Layton - Fear Leads to Anger. Anger Leads to hate …

Kathy Escobar - Pawn Shops, Empty Refrigerators, The Long Hill Up

Carol Kuniholm - Wondering About Wealth

Glenn Hager - Shrinking The Gap

Jeremy Myers - Wealth Distribution

Liz Dyer - The First Step Is Admitting There Is A Problem

Ellen Haroutunian - Economic Inequality: Coming Back To Our Senses

K.W. Leslie – Wealth, Christians, and Justice

Abbie Watters – My Confession

Steve Hayes – Obscenity

Hope is Held Between Us [Provoketive Magazine]

January 18, 2012

church and culture, community, conversations, generative Christianity, Kingdom, Living Orthodoxy, real church, spiritual formation, Synchroblog

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[This month our Synchroblog partnered with Provoketive Magazine. See below for links to other Synchrobloggers.]

Sometimes, ok, perhaps it’s often, I weary of the discipline it takes to stay faithful to the routines of tending life. I begin to skimp on the practices that nurture body, mind, soul and community. Fortunately, every now and then something wonderful comes along to enliven my efforts.

My husband and I met with friends for dinner a couple of nights ago. They are the type of friends with whom you always wish you could spend much more time. We enjoyed delicious food, wine, conversation, and heaping platefuls of hope. Interestingly, we had decided beforehand that we would discuss the end of the world. We were only half-joking. This idea was instigated by the distress of another mutual friend, a very wealthy man, over his fear of an impending world-wide economic collapse. He was ready to liquidate all his assets, pack up and move to South America. (I am not sure why South America would be better if the whole world was in trouble but there you have it.) One of our dinner mates is also in the financial world and well acquainted with the inner workings of the struggling economy. We looked forward to hearing what she might have to say.

We agreed that the mutual-friend-turned-conversation-starter is very bright and very rational man. This reaction seemed very out of character for him. But this sort of thinking is entrenched in our collective psyches and probably has been since the beginning of time. We are all afraid of what we cannot control. We are all afraid of loss. This fear is amplified through the lens of round the clock disaster movies and documentaries, and the Mayan, Nostradamus and Left Behind theories that all seek to interpret many world events in catastrophic terms. In response, there are survivalist websites selling packaged food and gear. Self-protective instincts run deep.

Our conversation moved to what if? Specifically, if major calamity does strike, how do people of faith respond? How do we create safe space for ourselves and how do we care for our neighbors? How do we share meager supplies with those who have run out? How do we offer the hospitality of God?

And, what would it be like? Would desperation finally push us to the faith that we have not grown into yet? You know, the kind of faith that feeds 5,000 from a few loaves and fishes, the faith that heals sickness and that finds the coins we need in the mouths of fish? We had no answers. These probably weren’t our real questions anyway. We have not been asked to live this way, not yet.

It was in this context that one friend brought up the idea of spiritual eldering. Spiritual elders are the folks who have been around a while. They have seen suffering and they have seen great beauty. They have seen heart-breaking betrayals, and they have seen love and sacrifice like that of Christ himself. They have seen faith fail and they have seen grace overflow. These are the ones who have “set their faces towards Jerusalem”, that is, they have set out finally on the journey that is Christ’s. They have seen Kingdom and can do nothing else but live in a way that brings it forth. They have let go of what brings only fleeting hope here on earth. They have learned what is truly important.

And there we were, the four of us, each moving into our sixth decade on earth. We recognized that we are entering the elder stage. And of course, none of us felt ready or adequate. My friend then asked, “So, when will we be old enough to give it all away?” It became apparent that while we are not old enough yet, our shared conviction was to move in that direction together as community. This is never a journey that we need walk alone. In that realization, we felt the growing potential, desire, and joy of the possibilities held between us.

Therein lies the hope. We were sitting in communion with friends who hope for Kingdom. Their hearts were for the left behind, the people in need. They were not thinking about preparing for disasters as much as much as learning to be good shepherds. They were concerned about growing into the people we would each need to become in order to bring forth the equities and the sweet, inclusive shalom of Kingdom life, no matter what happens. We all felt caught up in a quiet thrill at the thought of this communal dream. And just for once, the cost didn’t seem to obscure the prize.

None of this stuff would be surprising to my dear mentor nun, Sr. Marilyn. She is a spiritual elder in the truest sense of those words and she is helping to grow us up. She once told me a story of a priest whose South American monastery faced apocalypse when it was invaded by gunmen. The humble priest greeted them with open arms. They shot him. “It was the practices,” said Sister, “that prepared his heart to meet them that way.” Indeed, it was the practices that prepared him for anything.

Richard Rohr notes that in our younger days, we typically use the type of prayer posture that we feel will help to build our careers, fill our coffers, and create a life. As we move towards eldering, we need the kind of prayer practices that help us to let it all go. We need what will bring us to the place where being emptied enough to truly open ourselves to the reality and need of the other, becomes as compelling a desire as any other we have known here. Then, instead of grasping and protecting what is ours, we can begin to walk this earth with arms held open wide.

How do we get there? “Do the practices,” says Sr. Marilyn. “The practices will get you ready.” And the hope birthed by good friends does, too.

[The practices she refers to include regular engagement with faith community, Centering Prayer, Lectio Divina, the daily Examen and others.]

Synchrobloggers at Provoketive Magazine :

The Trouble With Hope: John Ptacek

Hope = Possibility x Imagination: Wayne Rumsby

Little Reminders: Mike Victorino

Where Is My Hope: Jonathan Brink

Hope for Hypocrites: Jeremy Myers

Now These Three Remain: Sonny Lemmons

Perplexed, But Still Hopeful: Carol Kuniholm

A Hope that Lives: Amy Mitchell

Generations Come and Generations Go: Adam Gonnerman

Demystifying Hope: Glenn Hager

God in the Dark: On Hope: Renee Ronika Klug

Keeping Hope Alive: Maurice Broaddus

Are We Afraid to Hope?: Christine Sine

On Wobbly Wheels, Split Churches and Fear: Laura Droege

Adopting Hope: Travis Klassen

Hope is Held Between Us: Ellen Haroutunian

Hope: In the Hands of the Creatively Maladjusted: Mihee Kim-Kort

Paradox, Hope and Revival: City Safari

Good Theology Saves: Reverend Robyn

Linear: Never Was, Never Will Be: Kathy Escobar

Better Than Hope: Liz Dyer

Caroline for Congress: Hope for the Future: Wendy McCaig

Fumbling the Ball on Hope: KW Leslie

Content to Hope: Alise Wright

Hope: Oh, the Humanity!: Deanna Ogle

[December Synchroblog] Jesus came, did you get what you expected?

December 28, 2011

community, devotional, generative Christianity, Kingdom, liturgical year, Living Orthodoxy, real church, spiritual formation, spirituality, Synchroblog

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Jesus came, did you get what you expected?

I pray that the answer is no.

I realize how strange that sounds. When I wished my friends and family Merry Christmas, I truly meant it. I wished for each one a season of peace and enjoyment and that each would experience life-altering moments of kindness and love. I wished everyone could be a part of a gathering in which they felt a sense of belonging. I hoped that each of us could offer that to others as well, especially those with no place to go. I wished that everyone would feel noticed and known through the gift giving, and that each one would feel as though they matter.

I confess I love the beauty and ribbons and lights and music and anticipation of it all. It’s all too easy to get caught up into the commercialism and sentimentality that has taken over the holiday season and that causes so many of us to rack up big bills and stress in order to make it all happen. Let’s be honest, that stuff is just as alive in the Christian world as it is in the secular. But sentimentality is a cheapened version of true celebration. It tells a lie that what our hearts most desire can truly be found here, through our money and our parties.

Therefore, even though I truly wished you all Merry Christmas, I hope you were blessed enough to leave the holiday unsatisfied. I hope you all enjoyed a lovely holiday as did my family and I, and, I pray that none of us would be satisfied with so little ever again.

My prayer is that the Christian church would have to courage to begin to grow up. May we become less afraid of the mystery, the great paradox of our Christian lives which is the reality of the already/not yet. Christ has come and shown us the way of His Kingdom. Alleluia. However, Christian celebration on this side of heaven must always carry with it a morsel of grief. That is why three of our Advent candles are purple, the color of penitence and suffering. We must outgrow the Jesus who, as my pastor says, is too often viewed as our “bearded girlfriend who wants to be our lifecoach.” We must outgrow our “religious narcissism”. May we dare to follow God to places far outside of ourselves.

Those who walk in the footsteps of Emmanuel may not forget that the world aches in pain, oppression and need. We ache because even though we enjoyed a feast day with all the trimmings, many of our children in West Africa passed away from hunger. We are troubled because though we are free, too many of us are still in chains through sex trafficking, dictatorships or the selfishness of others. We ache because we do not yet know how to die enough to our own fears and greed to allow Kingdom to be birthed fully alive and full term everywhere.

If we lose our sense of ache, of longing for something better, we lose who we truly are. We are made for something, Someone, far better than what the pretty, sentimental holidays can ever provide. And, we are meant to begin to realize that truth in context of community. Theologian Miroslav Volf says that when we “receive” Christ, we receive all who come with Him. We cannot fully know and bring Kingdom without those whom we have left behind.

May the awe that we feel at the coming of God Incarnate jar our hearts awake to this exquisite longing. May this Holy Discontent drive us to the Story to live as deeply liturgical people, people who live with rejoicing and ache, all while figuring out a bit more of what it might mean to love God and love others. And if you have been fully satisfied and your life is near perfect, may you be blessed enough for God to come in and mess it up enough so that you are not left behind in slumber. Amen.

When the song of the angels is stilled,
when the star in the sky is gone,
when the kings and princes are home,
when the shepherds are back with their flocks,
the work of Christmas begins:

to find the lost, to heal the broken,
to feed the hungry,
to release the prisoner, to rebuild the nations,
to bring peace among the people,
to make music in the heart.
(Quaker Blessing)

Enjoy the Synchrobloggers:

Glenn Hager – Underwear For Christmas

Jeremy Myers – The Unexpected Gift From Jesus

Tammy Carter - Unstuck

Jeff Goins - The Day After Christmas: A Lament

Wendy McCaig – Unwanted Gifts: You Can Run But You Can Not Hide

Christine Sine – The Wait Is Over – What Did I Get?

Maria Kettleson Anderson – Following The Baby We Just Celebrated

Leah – Still Waiting For Redemption

Kathy Escobar – Pain Relief Not Pain Removal

Higher Ground (not exactly a film review)

September 24, 2011

community, conversations, film reviews, search for real church, stuff to ponder

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So, Ellen, Aram, Ted and Phyllis went to see the indy film Higher Ground last night.

It is one of those films that leaves you wide eyed and blinking. I doubt it will have this effect on everyone but if you were part of a conservative evangelical movement or church during the 70’s you may feel as though the filmmakers had planted a camera in your head.

I think each of us felt as if we were watching our former lives on display. We were quickly submerged in the muted colors, fussy wallpapers, and the kind of furniture and dishes that looked like the innards of every house church we had ever been in. We were engulfed by 70’s hair, modest bib dresses on women, strumming guitars and reverent shutter-eyed singing. There were kumbayas and murmured praises, corrective scripture verses always at the ready, memories of good feelings that came from real concern as well as the tightly measured pressure of towing the line. And as was so often true, pain is passed over in an almost zombie like fashion. I felt gripped, as if I were watching a train wreck happening in Mr. Roger’s neighborhood. I had to remind myself to breathe. I think Phyllis needed some EMDR.

The film follows the life of Corinne, a woman who “finds the Lord” and becomes part of a small church community. She faithfully learns their ways, learns the scriptures and learns how not to make a brother stumble by dressing immodestly. She is instructed to stifle her voice when accused of “almost preaching” when sharing her take on scripture in a meeting because that’s not a woman’s place. She learns to accept and obey what she is told in order to receive the blessings of God. Corinne is truly sincere in her belief, doing her very best to comply.

Her haunted eyes belied the smile on her lips. I could feel her loneliness. She had no context to understand what was happening inside of her. She loved literature and beauty, things seemingly disconnected and far flung from her faith life. She was married to a man who was faithful but who could not perceive the depth of her mind and heart (nor his own, as one angry scene reveals). Of course, Corinne doesn’t fully understand them herself. She struggles with her rapidly fleeting romantic feelings towards her husband and turns her face away when he tries to kiss her. He responds, “Try not to.” Everything is a matter of will. We watch the unraveling of the faith of a woman who truly believes, yet cannot find a faith that goes deep enough to encompass her whole soul.

The breaking point for Corinne seemed to come with the loss of her friend Annika, who changed drastically after brain surgery. Annika was the one person in her life who brought passion and humor. She was overtly sexual in a way that would probably be uncomfortable for most of those churchgoers, yet she was never crass or violating. She was always far more likely to value a person over the rules. She was funny and also strangely at peace with her life in this group. The community prayed fervently as she underwent surgery for a malignant brain tumor. They hailed her survival as a miracle from God.

Afterwards, Annika’s husband dutifully brings her gnarled and vacant body to church, praising the Lord and never hinting that he might miss the true and vibrant person she once was. In contrast, Corinne’s grief for her friend was achingly palpable. I had to wonder if she was also seeing a reflection of her own soul– faithful and dutiful on the outside, locked up and shriveled on the inside. I have often felt as though I was an Annika in church at times. I was grateful for the care of church community, yet there was something in me screaming to get out and stretch and I had no way to make them hear.

The film is kind to this little band. They are portrayed and genuinely sweet and sincere people who believe they have the presence and blessing of God and that they are living according to his will. I appreciated the lack of derision and cynicism towards them. I know Christians like them, heck, I was a Christian like them and I know we could be as annoying as hell. But the filmmakers see that they truly seek to bless and not do harm. Even so, looking at them all these years later I have to wonder what was the point of it all. At the end of the film, we see the exterior shot of the same church that Corinne attended in her childhood. It gives the sense that their little band is stuck, frozen in time. Their faith keeps their lives tidy, painting over pain and loss, holding out hope for heaven. Even as Corinne shares her painful confusion and leaves her husband and the church, they turn away. They are not unkind, they simply cannot process what is happening. They go back to what they know. It’s as though they are trying to avoid being fully human.

I have to wonder if the struggles faced by churches today has to do with this very thing. Church provides truths, doctrines, rules and yes, community. Even those who have come from churches that have damaged them can remember some stories of extraordinary kindnesses and love. But “church” has forgotten the deeper human journey. We have forgotten that our purpose is not to answer the questions or avoid the pain of the unanswerable ones. Our call is to live the questions, making space for our souls to expand and take in deeper breaths of life. The “church” is not meant to make enclaves for pleasant living but to walk with each other across thresholds of doubt and pain, trusting that even as our questions take us away from what is comfortable and sure that there is Something More to be found even (or perhaps especially) beyond our borders. We are meant to see the gift in all of the Corinnes and the Annikas, sent to keep us awake and alive, and to create hearts big enough for real faith to be born. We need to be courageous enough to let people grow past our visions of what they should be. And may we all be changed by them too.

Be patient toward all that is unresolved in your heart. And try to love the questions themselves.” - Rainer Maria Rilke

Quote borrowed from the Director’s statement found here.

Are you willing to see?

November 7, 2010

community, conversations, generative Christianity, Kingdom, Living Orthodoxy, real church, reflections

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We went to see the documentary Reconciliation: Mandela’s Miracle the other night at the Denver Film Festival. This film looks at the story behind Invictus, the major motion picture that recounts the story of Nelson Mandela and his relationship with the improbable world cup winning South African rugby team, the Springboks.

The Springboks had represented apartheid to the black South Africans. When the Boks would play, blacks would root for the other team. With Mandela’s release from prison and election to the highest office in the land, the black South Africans were understandably ready to change everything about the nation that reflected anything of apartheid, especially the Springboks. However, Mandela saw an opportunity to unite a very polarized and fearful nation. He insisted that the Springboks stay intact, and keep their apartheid-era team colors. Mandela believed that to treat the whites badly would mean confirming their worst fears and create more tension and polarization amongst the people. He would not return evil for evil, but overcome evil with good.

“Forgiveness begins today,” he often said.

It is a stunning story. How often does someone emerge from mistreatment and many stolen years in prison with forgiveness and reconciliation in their hearts? How many could endure such inequities and not demand their due? How many are truly willing to risk forgiveness? To do that in this case meant that you had to choose trust the heart of your former enemy. It looked foolish.

One of the producers of the film remarked to the audience that she has been a Buddhist for 40 years. This was because the only people she had heard of having such a startling and powerful attitude of forgiveness were Tibetan monks…and now Mandela. That is a powerful thought for us post-modern reformers. How is it that Christianity is not known as a people who espouse forgiveness? We may proclaim it as abstract truth in that we believe that God forgives our sins through the atoning work of Jesus. But perhaps the world gets to see the miraculous power of true forgiveness and reconciliation amongst real people with serious issues all too rarely.

Slowly, many of the white South Africans were awakened to the human rights abuses and cruelties of the system of apartheid. They chose to allow elections that would invite into leadership one who had formerly been seen as a terrorist against the state. It was all the more remarkable because no-one could know what this would mean for anyone, black or white. There was no certainty of outcome. There was no guarantee that the country wouldn’t erupt into chaos. The only thing that was sure was that this choice would change their world forever. And yet, they all chose to prefer and honor each other over their long term, firmly held beliefs, even Christian beliefs. Though they are not the only culprit, Christians in South Africa had justified the existence of apartheid through a particularly onerous version of Calvinism that permeated theological thought and culture and eventually became ensconced in the laws of the nation. In the film a former apartheid Minister of Law and Order admits, “I am a Christian. I love the Lord. But I did not see what was happening. I was blind. Now I see, and I pray I see all people as Jesus sees them”.

The story of Nelson Mandela and the creation of the “Rainbow Nation” is one of the most powerful incarnations of the gospel in human history. It causes me to wonder: We are often so sure of what we believe and so sure we are right. To what or whom are we still blinded? Are we willing to see, even if it changes everything?

Nelson Mandela and Springbok Captain Francois Pienaar

Not in my baqyard? Thoughts on the “Ground Zero” mosque

August 18, 2010

church and culture, community, conversations, generative Christianity, interfaith dialogue, Kingdom, politics, real church, stuff to ponder

7 Comments

How do we respond to the Cordoba Project, aka The “Ground Zero Mosque”? Some say the placement of an Islamic place of worship near the hallowed ground of 9-11 is just plain insensitive. Others say to refuse it is a violation of the first amendment which guarantees freedom of religion. Still others say, well it’s not about freedom of religion because there are other precedents for not allowing something of this nature near a hallowed site, such as, land use disputes that battle a casino construction too close to a historic battlefield. That point seems to most deftly avoid the real issues of the heart. People are resentful and afraid. It is all about fear of this religion.

What is the Christian response to all this? It seems that in this day in which our country is more polarized than ever, and fear and self-preservation seem to have the loudest voices in the land, that we need to take extra care not to forget who we are. What is most unique about Christianity is the visible, radical hospitality of God who not only welcomes the other, He became the other, and ate and drank, lived, laughed and wept with the other. Without the reality of the incarnation of God in the person of Jesus, we are just another moralistic system. Jesus is our precedent for how to treat those who are “different” (whatever that means), even those who are (real or perceived) enemies.

Radical hospitality cannot be offered without radical forgiveness. Indeed, I wonder if they are the same thing. Forgiveness opens the spaces of the heart that were slammed shut due to hurt, fear and shame. It’s easy to whip up feelings of fear and resentment for political gain, but where are the voices of forgiveness and reconciliation? And, where are the voices that preach the laying down of the desires of the ego so that Christ might be visible in us? These are some of our core Christian values.

What Bin Laden -who does not represent most Muslims- wants most is to goad us into a Holy War. Us against them. Religious beliefs against religious beliefs – tricking us into believing that Christianity must prove itself by postures of domination and power. Jesus took a radically different route by setting a table in the presence of his enemies. Of course some of his enemies couldn’t bear to sup with him, but that didn’t void the invitation.

What would it look like to put aside our own fears and harrumphs and accounting of offenses and set a table of hospitality? Might it look like blessing the Islamic Community Center (whose community also lost people on 9-11) to proceed in peace? Remember, offering peace and reconciliation is rarely a nice, fluffy, feel-good process. It hurts. It is the embodiment of the gospel. And, it is the best way forward into healing.

**********

In addition, please check out the blog of Samir Selmanovic, a Christian pastor in NYC who is one of the most reasonable and empassioned voices in interfaith dialogue today. Find him at www.samirselmanovic.com. And read his book! (my review)

And once again because we all think way too highly of ourselves and need to laugh at ourselves a bit, the link below is some related humor on the issue. Jon Stewart and company rightly ask, should an entire religion be judged by its biggest assholes?
(sorry, can’t imbed)

http://www.thedailyshow.com/watch/mon-august-16-2010/mosque-erade

A sad but good NYT article-How Fox Betrayed Petraeus

—ellen haroutunian

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