Unemployment and the meaning of life
Warning: this blog may contain whining.
I'm guessing that if you've been unemployed before, you know that it sucks. I am personally between jobs at the moment, and it hasn't even been for very long, and I've got some good leads, so why should I be complaining? Ah, but I am.
There's a statement of faith from my church (see: cuddly mainline propaganda link to the right) that is more sort of talking points than something you need to swear to, but one of the lines that comes to me lately is: "God saves us from aimlessness..."
Isn't that a funny thought? Or at least a funny way of phrasing it? If I remember the story right, when this statement was written about thirty years ago, it was subject to lots of discussion. Lots of discussion.
But you know, I wouldn't mind being saved from aimlessness at the moment. I get up in the mornings at a reasonable hour, still, and it's nice to have time to do some meditating, but then it's really kind of hard to follow a regular schedule. The TV calls to me with little voices, "C'mon, Amy, one more episode of Judge Mathis won't hurt you." Or, now that we have cable, "Maybe you can figure out where to put your photographs if you watch Trading Spaces all day." And then my muscles feel stiff and achey, and my voice is chalky from disuse.
I think part of what makes a person happy (or at least makes me happy) is doing something that is meaningful. I admit that there's a part of me that wants to be important/looked up to/respected. But there's another less selfish (and I hope stronger) part of me that really wants to make a difference and leave things better than I found them. And my career/livelihood represents a huge chunk of time and energy. A big part of who I am.
While I've had jobs where I was just a cog in a big machine, at least I had somewhere to be in the morning. Of course when I'm doing that kind of work, I usually wish that I weren't working. [Technical assistance from a fellow nerd required: did I use the subjunctive correctly in that sentence? Please advise.] And it's also important to consider, in those situations, not only the work being done, but the ethics and relationships involved, too. But that's not the same thing as work that really comes out of a sense of who you are and who God wants you to be.
The idea then is to not only have work, but have work that is meaningful. But I think salvation in this case is a slow process. In other words, easier said than done. It takes lots of patience, a willingness to really listen to hear what God is calling you to, or where your strongest reserves of energy come from.
And then preparing for it, and then waiting for just that right position or career. Yikes! (For some people, it's okay to be a cog in the big wheel because it allows them to support a family--also a deeply meaningful endeavor.)
So where am I going with this? I think unemployment is so sucky because it leaves us without a sense of meaning (or a paycheck, but that's another blog entry) or purpose, and these are both things that are good for the soul. We're not created just to sit around on our butts. We really are supposed to be doing something.
I need to find somewhere to volunteer.
May God save us all from aimlessness.
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
Jesus and sex
I wrote my last blog on the Da Vinci code, and I’m still thinking about some of the implications. In the book, a couple big ideas come through as important to the rituals of a (positively portrayed) secret society.
1. The feminine constitutes half of the divine being—God is both masculine and feminine in other words.
2. Heterosexual sex is used to symbolize the joining of the two natures. Woman is honored because she becomes a path to God for man through sex.
My two bits on this: First, I don’t think that male and female are opposites, or that there is something essentially masculine or feminine that needs to be added together to form a picture of perfection. To my mind, God has a lot more facets than what we might call masculine and feminine traits, and so while I do think those pieces may be incorporated into God’s being, those aren’t the only or most important parts. Plus, if women are honored as being a path to God, that’s still an objectification. And it leaves out gay sex as a potentially holy act.
Okay, so those are my beefs. Here’s what I think is valuable about the way the story sets this all up: The book argues that having sex can be a spiritual experience, and I agree. The misuse and abuse of sex is very common, but ultimately it is a gift from God. Our bodies are created by God, sexuality included, and not just for making more babies. Sex gives us a deeper way to communicate with the people we love, and it is a way for our bodies to pray. Plus it’s a reminder that God just has to have a sense of humor.
So the next question that might naturally come up if you’ve grown up in a culturally Christian country like the good ol’ US of A is this: Did Jesus ever have sex? For me, just asking the question is a little like asking whether my parents have ever had sex—not entirely comfortable. Downright queasy, even. But that’s my gut reaction, not an accurate gauge for whether or not my parents have sex. (ech.) Of course they do! (There—I said it. Happy?) In a similar way, I think about Jesus as a kind of authority figure—an older brother, or a favorite teacher. It makes sense that Jesus got married at some point in his life. He did live into his early thirties after all. His disciples weren’t ascetics, so I doubt he gave up sex either (use the link to look up these verses if you’re curious: Luke 5:33-35). The thing is, though, there’s no way to know for sure, from reading the Bible, what Jesus’ love life was like—gay or straight, single or married. You can make your speculations many ways, but really, kind of like the sex lives of our parents, (ech) that stuff is private. Not to say it’s good or bad. Just something I don’t need to know about.
One other thought. Right now, here in the U.S. of A., we are kind of obsessed with what I might call personal or sexual morality. Is abortion right or wrong? Is homosexuality right or wrong? Should the state grant marriage rights to gays? But what’s funny is that these issues don’t really come up in Jesus’ teachings. What does come up a lot are things like the reign of God, how we spend our money, and how we treat the poor. Is it time for a new emphasis?
I wrote my last blog on the Da Vinci code, and I’m still thinking about some of the implications. In the book, a couple big ideas come through as important to the rituals of a (positively portrayed) secret society.
1. The feminine constitutes half of the divine being—God is both masculine and feminine in other words.
2. Heterosexual sex is used to symbolize the joining of the two natures. Woman is honored because she becomes a path to God for man through sex.
My two bits on this: First, I don’t think that male and female are opposites, or that there is something essentially masculine or feminine that needs to be added together to form a picture of perfection. To my mind, God has a lot more facets than what we might call masculine and feminine traits, and so while I do think those pieces may be incorporated into God’s being, those aren’t the only or most important parts. Plus, if women are honored as being a path to God, that’s still an objectification. And it leaves out gay sex as a potentially holy act.
Okay, so those are my beefs. Here’s what I think is valuable about the way the story sets this all up: The book argues that having sex can be a spiritual experience, and I agree. The misuse and abuse of sex is very common, but ultimately it is a gift from God. Our bodies are created by God, sexuality included, and not just for making more babies. Sex gives us a deeper way to communicate with the people we love, and it is a way for our bodies to pray. Plus it’s a reminder that God just has to have a sense of humor.
So the next question that might naturally come up if you’ve grown up in a culturally Christian country like the good ol’ US of A is this: Did Jesus ever have sex? For me, just asking the question is a little like asking whether my parents have ever had sex—not entirely comfortable. Downright queasy, even. But that’s my gut reaction, not an accurate gauge for whether or not my parents have sex. (ech.) Of course they do! (There—I said it. Happy?) In a similar way, I think about Jesus as a kind of authority figure—an older brother, or a favorite teacher. It makes sense that Jesus got married at some point in his life. He did live into his early thirties after all. His disciples weren’t ascetics, so I doubt he gave up sex either (use the link to look up these verses if you’re curious: Luke 5:33-35). The thing is, though, there’s no way to know for sure, from reading the Bible, what Jesus’ love life was like—gay or straight, single or married. You can make your speculations many ways, but really, kind of like the sex lives of our parents, (ech) that stuff is private. Not to say it’s good or bad. Just something I don’t need to know about.
One other thought. Right now, here in the U.S. of A., we are kind of obsessed with what I might call personal or sexual morality. Is abortion right or wrong? Is homosexuality right or wrong? Should the state grant marriage rights to gays? But what’s funny is that these issues don’t really come up in Jesus’ teachings. What does come up a lot are things like the reign of God, how we spend our money, and how we treat the poor. Is it time for a new emphasis?
Monday, March 15, 2004
The Da Vinci Code
A friend of mine strongly encouraged me to read this book. Let me rephrase that: he kept asking me if I'd read it, until I finally relented and reserved it at the library. It was a good book and I'd recommend reading it, but here are some things you might want to know:
1. There is no such thing as a "professor of symbology."
2. There is no Robert Langdon.
3. There are no monks in Opus Dei.
So that was my first major reaction to this book: it is a work of fiction and yet there is a lot of stuff woven through it to make it seem very real and convincing. I didn't know, for example, that there are no monks in Opus Dei, until I talked to someone who used to be a nun and who has friends in Opus Dei. And then I watched him weave through other things and there was this weird feeling of: "Is this true? Because the last thing I read wasn't, but that could be true."
But my second reaction was this: the novel really makes use of a lot of the stuff I learned in Divinity school. The Bible, for example, was not sent to us by fax from heaven. There is a gospel of Mary, and the Catholic Christianity that Constantine eventually adopted was one of many competing strains before Constantine converted. When I learned about these things, though, they seemed a little technical, and kind of dry. So what surprises me is this: people are fascinated by the Da Vinci Code! All this old Biblical and Christian history (and a healthy dose of conspiracy theory, as well as some earnest feminist undertones) and people are recruiting each other to read it!
I think sometimes it's easy for me to be inside a church and have this feeling that God only moves in worship, or even that God is only speaking to people who go to church. But I don't think that's true. This book moves people, and I think that if it's not God speaking to the readers, then it is God speaking to the church. We don't need to hold onto theologies that are "safe," when safe means familiar and anti-feminist, for example. Many people can accept these ideas, and even find them refreshing and enlightening. But what is more important, this book says to churches: God is speaking, and not only to us.
A friend of mine strongly encouraged me to read this book. Let me rephrase that: he kept asking me if I'd read it, until I finally relented and reserved it at the library. It was a good book and I'd recommend reading it, but here are some things you might want to know:
1. There is no such thing as a "professor of symbology."
2. There is no Robert Langdon.
3. There are no monks in Opus Dei.
So that was my first major reaction to this book: it is a work of fiction and yet there is a lot of stuff woven through it to make it seem very real and convincing. I didn't know, for example, that there are no monks in Opus Dei, until I talked to someone who used to be a nun and who has friends in Opus Dei. And then I watched him weave through other things and there was this weird feeling of: "Is this true? Because the last thing I read wasn't, but that could be true."
But my second reaction was this: the novel really makes use of a lot of the stuff I learned in Divinity school. The Bible, for example, was not sent to us by fax from heaven. There is a gospel of Mary, and the Catholic Christianity that Constantine eventually adopted was one of many competing strains before Constantine converted. When I learned about these things, though, they seemed a little technical, and kind of dry. So what surprises me is this: people are fascinated by the Da Vinci Code! All this old Biblical and Christian history (and a healthy dose of conspiracy theory, as well as some earnest feminist undertones) and people are recruiting each other to read it!
I think sometimes it's easy for me to be inside a church and have this feeling that God only moves in worship, or even that God is only speaking to people who go to church. But I don't think that's true. This book moves people, and I think that if it's not God speaking to the readers, then it is God speaking to the church. We don't need to hold onto theologies that are "safe," when safe means familiar and anti-feminist, for example. Many people can accept these ideas, and even find them refreshing and enlightening. But what is more important, this book says to churches: God is speaking, and not only to us.
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