If you don’t know who John Marks is, I hope you will check out his blog, The Purple State of John. John and his old college roommate, Craig Detwiler, made a wonderful film called A Purple State of Mind. In that film, John, who is an avowed atheist, and Craig, who is an evangelical Christian (although a fairly progressive one), have a series of open, honest--and occasionally painful--conversations about faith and its implications for public life and individual action. They call the film "an 80-minute effort to bridge the cultural gap, to push past politics, and wade into the middle ground where most people live."
The "purple," of course, refers to a blending of the so-called "red state"/"blue state" divide promulgated so heavily by television news. I highly recommend the film to you.
When Dear Friend and I went to the premiere of A Purple State of Mind at Davidson College (where Marks and Detwiler met), we both felt more affinity for John, with his doubts and questions, than we did with Craig. Since that time, I have read John’s blog regularly (he does some really interesting posts on film and other cultural issues) and I comment semi-regularly on his faith-related posts. The following is my response to his post entitled The Perfect Christian Daughter Murders Her Perfect Christian Family: A Case Study In The Problem Of Evil. I got started writing, and couldn’t stop, so rather than clog up his comment box, I decided to respond here.
*************************************************
John--I ask in advance for your forgiveness if this sounds snarky. If we were discussing it over coffee or a beer, I assure you, I would sound more questioning than snide. (I also apologize for the length, but it’s hard to discuss this without laying out some important context.)
I have no easy answers for theodicy--and no thinking person of faith does. Stories like the one you highlight are quite effective for your purpose. You dare Christians to answer the unanswerable and show us to be ignorant fools when we try. It’s an easy “victory” for you---like shooting fish in a barrel.
But here is my question for you: What do YOU have to say about Erin Caffey and the evil she has done? Can you address the problem of evil without God and find any satisfactory answers?
I am a person of faith (in part) because, without "God," (however you define that), there can be no redemption for the evil or suffering in the world. All that pain just *is*. It will never be rectified. There will never be justice for the oppressed. There will never be any recompense for suffering. Life, to borrow from Thomas Hobbes, is "nasty, brutish, and short"--and we should probably all just kill ourselves and save ourselves the trouble. What's the point, anyway?
Maybe you can live in that nihilistic world, but I can't. Maybe you are made of stronger stuff than I--and most of the rest of humanity. I would venture to say that most people who claim a faith do so because we need to believe that the pain and suffering we DO experience (regardless of its cause) will ultimately be redeemed. That even if what we suffer is pointless, something good will come from it and our pain will not have been completely in vain.
If that makes me foolish or gullible in your eyes, I readily plead “Guilty as charged.”
I will not be glib about theodicy--but I will also state, as strongly as I am able, that I do not believe God causes or allows suffering for our "good." IMO, that God would be a monster and not worthy of worship.
I believe that God is with us *in* our suffering and works with us and others to bring good out of bad situations. I have experienced that presence myself in my own times of trouble. (Of course, it could just be some autonomic, evolution-inspired response in my brain—but that’s why we call it “faith.” ;-) I have also sensed the presence of the “holy” (for lack of a better term) in the faces and actions of those who have loved me.
I should probably note at this point that I am a process theologian. (I claim the title of "theologian" by virtue of my baptism, not because I went to seminary.) I don't believe that God is "omnipotent" (at least, in the sense most people mean it). I agree with Charles Hartshorne's view about that--he wrote a book titled Omnipotence and Other Theological Mistakes. My theology differs from most of those whom you profiled in your book Reasons to Believe--but I still count myself as a “Nicene Creed” Christian, and there are probably a lot more like me in Christian circles than you might think.
I am also a universalist, so I do not believe that God is going to send all but the chosen few to Hell. I don’t even believe in heaven or hell, in the sense that so many people mean them (as physical places where “good” or “bad” people go). But I do believe that, somehow, what is broken will be repaired and love will reign.
At the end of the day, my belief in God gives me "a very present help in times of trouble." That belief may be a delusion on my part, but it gives my life meaning and purpose.
My "brand" of Christianity is not the one against which you contend, of course. I will never try to impose my faith on you or anyone else--and I do my fair share of fighting my co-religionists in the political/legal sphere.
But I get tired of otherwise intelligent people acting as if the existence of evil is THE argument that disproves my belief in a loving God. (Bart Ehrman is another one who comes to mind...) I can make a case for agnosticism (though not for atheism) from a scientific point of view, but to use theodicy to dismiss the existence of God still leaves atheists with the problem of evil. Only in that case, as I see it, *you* have no answer at all--and no comfort to offer to those who suffer. I would love to know how you see it.
Pax,
Doxy
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Sunday, May 31, 2009
A word about "Dear Friend"...
A number of people have asked me why I haven't changed Dear Friend's name to "Dear Husband"?
Mainly, it's because he *is* my dear friend--the dearest of them all. I have learned that heart friends nearly always treat each other in ways that honor relationship--and that spouses can frequently treat each other in ways that they would never think of treating their best friends. I aim to treat him always like the dear friend that he is.
There is another reason too. When I first joined an Internet community 10 years ago, everyone there referred to their male spouses as "DH," which could stand for "Dear Husband" or "Damned Husband," depending on the circumstances. Since I used to refer to the Hydra in that forum as "DH," I just can't bring myself to change Dear Friend's name to that. In all the important ways, they are as different as chalk and cheese, for which I daily thank the good Lord.
I would have called him "Beloved," since that is what he is and it is actually what his name means in the original language from which it comes--but Cecilia already had that one covered by the time he became a fixture in my life.
So I think I'll just leave his moniker as-is. It suits him and it makes me happy.
Mainly, it's because he *is* my dear friend--the dearest of them all. I have learned that heart friends nearly always treat each other in ways that honor relationship--and that spouses can frequently treat each other in ways that they would never think of treating their best friends. I aim to treat him always like the dear friend that he is.
There is another reason too. When I first joined an Internet community 10 years ago, everyone there referred to their male spouses as "DH," which could stand for "Dear Husband" or "Damned Husband," depending on the circumstances. Since I used to refer to the Hydra in that forum as "DH," I just can't bring myself to change Dear Friend's name to that. In all the important ways, they are as different as chalk and cheese, for which I daily thank the good Lord.
I would have called him "Beloved," since that is what he is and it is actually what his name means in the original language from which it comes--but Cecilia already had that one covered by the time he became a fixture in my life.
So I think I'll just leave his moniker as-is. It suits him and it makes me happy.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Boston, here we come!!!
Dear Friend did it! He finished his 19th marathon in 3 hours and 53 minutes. He has now qualified for the Boston Marathon in April 2010.
Not a bad week for my beloved. Turn 60 on Friday. Get married on Saturday. Realize a long-held personal dream on the following Saturday...
I think we are both liking this marriage thing.
Not a bad week for my beloved. Turn 60 on Friday. Get married on Saturday. Realize a long-held personal dream on the following Saturday...
I think we are both liking this marriage thing.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Elegy
She was beautiful. Big brown eyes and a veritable mane of dark brown, unruly hair. A crooked tooth gave her a interesting smile.
She was sarcastic and wry. I was always glad that I wasn’t the subject of her witheringly funny scrutiny. She could cut through bullshit in about two seconds flat. You never wondered what she thought about anything--she was always happy to tell you.
She grew up in a beach town and she was in love with the ocean. Her blog carried a quote from Isak Dinesen: “The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears, or the sea.” She knew something about tears--and she knew how to laugh, too.
She was fiercely loyal to her friends, including me. And she was loving--to her son, to her family and friends, and even to a few people who didn’t deserve it.
She exemplified Jesus about as well as anyone I’ve ever known. She gave up on organized religion after her young son was diagnosed with a chronic illness and the faith community in which he was baptized at sunrise on an Easter morning never called to see how he was or visited him in the hospital. I can’t say I blame her for that--in fact, it grieves me in a special way, because those apathetic folks were “my people”--Episcopalians. But she walked the walk a hell of a lot better than most people who just like to tell you about their love for Jesus.
She never caught a break. She never went to college. Never really had much in the way of a career--certainly not something with benefits. Her one great love broke her heart when he left their marriage. Late in life, she had the son she loved above all with a man who didn’t deserve either of them.
She was a loving, good woman, friend, and mother, and she never caught a break.
*********************************
She died of cancer yesterday. She died at age 50, leaving that 10-year-old boy with the chronic illness without her fierce love and protection. God only knows what his life will be like now.
She died because she was poor, and because she didn’t have health insurance.
She died because, when she started having pain and other symptoms almost five years ago, she didn’t go to the doctor because she couldn’t afford it. What might have been easily curable had it been caught early was a death sentence by the time she was no longer able to bear the pain and dragged herself to the emergency room.
She died because the people in this country are so fucking selfish that they have fought healthcare reform tooth and nail.
She died because she didn’t have the good fortune to be born in a country that doesn’t CLAIM to be “Christian”--like any developed nation in Europe or the United Kingdom. (Where my mother, who suffers from chronic health problems, has received the best healthcare she’s ever gotten...so spare me your ignorant diatribes about the National Health Service in the U.K.)
My friend spent her last years suffering not only the pain of cancer but the indignity of having to worry about how she was going to pay her rent and feed her child. She was diagnosed with terminal cancer 2½ years ago, and was able to get Social Security disability payments only nine weeks ago.
It sickens me to type that.
If you are one of those people who believes that universal healthcare is a socialist plot and has fought reform that would enable every American to have decent healthcare, I hold you personally responsible for her death. You are complicit in murder, and you should fall to your knees and beg God’s forgiveness for your selfishness and your hardness of heart.
If it were in my power, I would force you to look that 10-year-old boy in the face and explain to him why it is okay that his mother is dead so that you could have a few more dollars in your pocket for your Starbucks lattes or your cable television service. Or why it it was okay for you to keep your “Cadillac healthcare plan” while his mother had none.
If you could do that, you are beyond help and may God have mercy on your soul--for you will get none from me.
If you could do that, I hope that you at least have the grace not to call yourself a Christian.
And if you couldn’t--if you couldn’t look that sweet boy in the face and say something so hardened and callous that it would make the angels weep--you need to be on the phone to your elected representatives, telling them to make sure that this doesn’t happen again. Demanding that they make changes--no matter what the cost--so that no person on this earth will die in agony, and no child will be left motherless, because we don’t have the will to do the most basic thing that Jesus asked of us: “Love one another.”
**********************************************************
This is what my friend, Terri-Lynn—funny, loyal, loving woman that she was—wrote about herself:
Where I'm From
I am from sand dollars and Sea and Ski
and the whole world contained in a tidal pool.
I am from overdue library books and Oreos
and tea parties after school.
I am from a tiny Riverside kitchen, abundant in love
and children
and molasses-filled biscuits.
I am from squeaky screen doors and sun-dried linens
and the golden promise of forsythia.
I am from the wild tangle of honeysuckle
the salt-cured planks of the pier
the cool green sanctuary under the willow tree.
I am from walks by the ocean and foolish pride,
from Lilla and Thelma
and Carolyn-now-Lynn.
I am from mule-headed stubborn and talking too much,
from singing along and dancing fools.
I am from Murphy was an optimist and bless your heart.
I am from the best part of the day.
I am from Jesus loves me
just as I am.
I am from dinner on the grounds and I'll fly away oh glory
and Jesus Christ Superstar.
I am from Edgecombe County and the muddy Tar,
from forbidden dunes and the endless Atlantic.
I am from ham biscuits,
butterbeans shelled this morning
and Pop's peach ice cream.
I am from the girl who sang with the band
and won the heart of the soldier,
from the milkman's daughter and the man with no voice
(he loved to fish).
I am from pirates and poets and painters
All of the gifts; none of the glory.
I am from Mason's shrine and Granny's cedar chest,
from Daddy's photographs and Tracy's poems.
I am from crocheted blankets, delicate as lace,
from cut-glass dishes and perfectly seasoned cast-iron skillets.
I am from familiar melodies and forgotten secrets
and a million grains of sand.
*********************************************************************
Rest in peace, Terri-Lynn Sykes. It was my great privilege to know you and to be your friend. And it is my great shame and sorrow that we failed you and your son.
Father of all, we pray to you for Terri-Lynn., and for all those whom we love but see no longer. Grant to them eternal rest.Let light perpetual shine upon them. May her soul and the souls of all the departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Amen.
She was sarcastic and wry. I was always glad that I wasn’t the subject of her witheringly funny scrutiny. She could cut through bullshit in about two seconds flat. You never wondered what she thought about anything--she was always happy to tell you.
She grew up in a beach town and she was in love with the ocean. Her blog carried a quote from Isak Dinesen: “The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears, or the sea.” She knew something about tears--and she knew how to laugh, too.
She was fiercely loyal to her friends, including me. And she was loving--to her son, to her family and friends, and even to a few people who didn’t deserve it.
She exemplified Jesus about as well as anyone I’ve ever known. She gave up on organized religion after her young son was diagnosed with a chronic illness and the faith community in which he was baptized at sunrise on an Easter morning never called to see how he was or visited him in the hospital. I can’t say I blame her for that--in fact, it grieves me in a special way, because those apathetic folks were “my people”--Episcopalians. But she walked the walk a hell of a lot better than most people who just like to tell you about their love for Jesus.
She never caught a break. She never went to college. Never really had much in the way of a career--certainly not something with benefits. Her one great love broke her heart when he left their marriage. Late in life, she had the son she loved above all with a man who didn’t deserve either of them.
She was a loving, good woman, friend, and mother, and she never caught a break.
*********************************
She died of cancer yesterday. She died at age 50, leaving that 10-year-old boy with the chronic illness without her fierce love and protection. God only knows what his life will be like now.
She died because she was poor, and because she didn’t have health insurance.
She died because, when she started having pain and other symptoms almost five years ago, she didn’t go to the doctor because she couldn’t afford it. What might have been easily curable had it been caught early was a death sentence by the time she was no longer able to bear the pain and dragged herself to the emergency room.
She died because the people in this country are so fucking selfish that they have fought healthcare reform tooth and nail.
She died because she didn’t have the good fortune to be born in a country that doesn’t CLAIM to be “Christian”--like any developed nation in Europe or the United Kingdom. (Where my mother, who suffers from chronic health problems, has received the best healthcare she’s ever gotten...so spare me your ignorant diatribes about the National Health Service in the U.K.)
My friend spent her last years suffering not only the pain of cancer but the indignity of having to worry about how she was going to pay her rent and feed her child. She was diagnosed with terminal cancer 2½ years ago, and was able to get Social Security disability payments only nine weeks ago.
It sickens me to type that.
If you are one of those people who believes that universal healthcare is a socialist plot and has fought reform that would enable every American to have decent healthcare, I hold you personally responsible for her death. You are complicit in murder, and you should fall to your knees and beg God’s forgiveness for your selfishness and your hardness of heart.
If it were in my power, I would force you to look that 10-year-old boy in the face and explain to him why it is okay that his mother is dead so that you could have a few more dollars in your pocket for your Starbucks lattes or your cable television service. Or why it it was okay for you to keep your “Cadillac healthcare plan” while his mother had none.
If you could do that, you are beyond help and may God have mercy on your soul--for you will get none from me.
If you could do that, I hope that you at least have the grace not to call yourself a Christian.
And if you couldn’t--if you couldn’t look that sweet boy in the face and say something so hardened and callous that it would make the angels weep--you need to be on the phone to your elected representatives, telling them to make sure that this doesn’t happen again. Demanding that they make changes--no matter what the cost--so that no person on this earth will die in agony, and no child will be left motherless, because we don’t have the will to do the most basic thing that Jesus asked of us: “Love one another.”
**********************************************************
This is what my friend, Terri-Lynn—funny, loyal, loving woman that she was—wrote about herself:
Where I'm From
I am from sand dollars and Sea and Ski
and the whole world contained in a tidal pool.
I am from overdue library books and Oreos
and tea parties after school.
I am from a tiny Riverside kitchen, abundant in love
and children
and molasses-filled biscuits.
I am from squeaky screen doors and sun-dried linens
and the golden promise of forsythia.
I am from the wild tangle of honeysuckle
the salt-cured planks of the pier
the cool green sanctuary under the willow tree.
I am from walks by the ocean and foolish pride,
from Lilla and Thelma
and Carolyn-now-Lynn.
I am from mule-headed stubborn and talking too much,
from singing along and dancing fools.
I am from Murphy was an optimist and bless your heart.
I am from the best part of the day.
I am from Jesus loves me
just as I am.
I am from dinner on the grounds and I'll fly away oh glory
and Jesus Christ Superstar.
I am from Edgecombe County and the muddy Tar,
from forbidden dunes and the endless Atlantic.
I am from ham biscuits,
butterbeans shelled this morning
and Pop's peach ice cream.
I am from the girl who sang with the band
and won the heart of the soldier,
from the milkman's daughter and the man with no voice
(he loved to fish).
I am from pirates and poets and painters
All of the gifts; none of the glory.
I am from Mason's shrine and Granny's cedar chest,
from Daddy's photographs and Tracy's poems.
I am from crocheted blankets, delicate as lace,
from cut-glass dishes and perfectly seasoned cast-iron skillets.
I am from familiar melodies and forgotten secrets
and a million grains of sand.
*********************************************************************
Rest in peace, Terri-Lynn Sykes. It was my great privilege to know you and to be your friend. And it is my great shame and sorrow that we failed you and your son.
Father of all, we pray to you for Terri-Lynn., and for all those whom we love but see no longer. Grant to them eternal rest.Let light perpetual shine upon them. May her soul and the souls of all the departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Amen.
Terri-Lynn and Doxy with boys
at the North Carolina State Fair
Fall 2004
at the North Carolina State Fair
Fall 2004
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Going to Ground
The wedding is less than a month away. I have been given the largest project of my career--one that I have wanted for 3 years--and it has to be completed by the end of June. I have another huge project in the works. As the school year winds to a close, my children need some additional parental attention to their homework (spring fever has bitten the Doxy household in a bad way...). Jasper needs more exercise.
All of that to say...I'm going to focus on what needs attention the most at the moment. I won't be blogging--but that's not the hard part. (It's not as if I blog all that often anyway...) The big challenge for me now is to try to stay off the Net so that I can get the humongous project in good shape and not have to take my computer on my honeymoon. Well, that...and get married and be a good mom to all three of my children and a good partner for Dear Friend.
It won't be easy to quit for a spell---I count on many of you to keep me informed about the things that matter most to me. Faith, politics (ecclesial and otherwise), and your own madcap adventures. I pray daily for many of you, as I know that some of you do for me. I'll keep praying--and I'll be bold enough to ask for yours. It's going to be a bumpy, wonderful ride!
All of that to say...I'm going to focus on what needs attention the most at the moment. I won't be blogging--but that's not the hard part. (It's not as if I blog all that often anyway...) The big challenge for me now is to try to stay off the Net so that I can get the humongous project in good shape and not have to take my computer on my honeymoon. Well, that...and get married and be a good mom to all three of my children and a good partner for Dear Friend.
It won't be easy to quit for a spell---I count on many of you to keep me informed about the things that matter most to me. Faith, politics (ecclesial and otherwise), and your own madcap adventures. I pray daily for many of you, as I know that some of you do for me. I'll keep praying--and I'll be bold enough to ask for yours. It's going to be a bumpy, wonderful ride!
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Guest Blogging by Jasper
Hi! My name is Jasper. I live with my Mom, Doxy, and the Emperor and Empress. I love them with all the big, wet, sloppy dog love I can muster. Especially my Mom. I try to be with her every minute of the day, so that I can protect her from squirrels and guys on motorcycles. (There ought to be a law against those things!)
I also spend half my time at Dear Friend's house. He's pretty cool too. He lets me watch "Animal Planet" on his big TV, and he plays tug-of-war with me when Mom isn't looking. (Don't tell her, or we'll both be in trouble!)
Some people think I'm a poodle, but that's only because they don't look very closely. I'm a Portuguese Water Dog. A lot of people call us "Porties" for short. I think that sounds stupid.
(Mom says "stupid" is not a nice word, but they aren't shortening her name to something that sounds like "potty!")
Being a Portuguese Water Dog means I'm kind of famous, because Mom says that there is a new Portuguese Water Dog living with President Obama at the Big White House...the one with the even bigger Green Lawn. I would looooove to play on that big green thing!
I've seen that new dog, Bo, on the news, because Mom made me watch the video. He's cute, but I feel a little bit sorry for him. He can't even do his business without people taking pictures of him. Yuck.
(I love having my picture made, as you can see, but I have my limits.)
My friend Jane at Acts of Hope wanted to know what I thought about having one of My Kind in the Big White House. I think it's pretty cool, but Mom thinks I should point you to this article about dogs like me:
Water Dogs Should Come With Warnings
Hey, I can't help it if I have LOTS of energy! And I confess I have a "thing" for sofa cushions:
See what a good job I am doing of checking this one for squirrels hiding inside it? Mom isn't very happy about this. She keeps saying "I haven't even finished paying for those yet!" I don't know what she's so upset about. It's my job to protect her from those evil hordes of satanic squirrels!
Know what I love to do for fun? Eat kleenex and paper towels. Boy, howdy! That is some kind of entertaining! And it provides lots of roughage...not to mention the exercise I get from Mom and the Royals chasing me around the house to try and stop me. (They can't usually do it. We Portuguese Water Dogs are FAST!)
My most favorite thing in the whole, wide world is going for walks. And now it's time for Mom to take me on one. Hope you have a great Sunday!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
