Category Archives: Books

Books, Politics, Religion, Religious Discrimination, Spiritual Development

Raised Right: Spiritual Warfare Goes Political

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Carman

Cover of Carman

Harris begins chapter two of Raised Right with a description of a music video made by Christian pop artist Carman.  As I read her description, I found them eerily familiar, but could not place them until she mentioned the artist’s name.  I spent my teen years listening to and idolizing[1] Carman and I’m sure I saw the video in question.

Harris uses the video to introduce the importance of “spiritual warfare” that was ingrained into her when she was a youth.  She speaks of singing a familiar Sunday school song (“I’m in the Lord’s army”) and learning the importance of fighting Satan.  She describes one event she witnessed:

While Pastor John was speaking, one of my parents’ friends, Greg, came forward and lifted his hands to ask for prayer.  Pastor John reached out his hand and shouted, “I bind you, Satan, in the name of Jesus Christ!”  The moment he said “Jesus Christ,” Greg staggered as if shot through the heart and then fell flat on his back, lying spread-eagled on the floor with a smile on his face.”

While I got involved in a Full Gospel[2] congregation while in college, I was raised in an American Baptist.  My church — and as I understand it, Baptist in general — don’t really believe that “miraculous gifts” such as speaking in tongues, prophecies, or instantaneous healing.  They also tend not to believe in or expect to encounter demons in a direct manner as might be described in This Present Darkness or as recounted by pentecostal/charismatic believers.  So while I too sang “I’m in the Lord’s army,” learned to recite all the parts of the “armor of God,” and was inundated in the same spiritual warfare terminology, I suspect that I took these things things far more metaphorically than Harris and her Sunday school classmates.

Of course, this left myself and my classmates trying to understand the metaphor.  We had an enemy we could not confront directly.  We had no demons to cast out.  So we were left wondering what “I’m in the Lord’s army” really meant beyond being a silly song.  We wondered what it really meant to put on the full armor of God.  Sure, knew we were supposed to invite friends to Sunday school and church.  We knew we were supposed to read the Bible, pray, and be good.  But for what?  Surely these things were never meant to be an ends in themselves[3].

So in many ways, I think I was more primed for the transition that Harris describes as she continues telling her story:

Though I wouldn’t have put it in these words at the time, I came to believe that our battle was not against invisible demons but against evil people who brought the fight into the real world.  They were the spiritual enemy clothed in flesh:  abortionists, feminists, secularists, humanists, the people conspiring to destroy God’s witness by corrupting America.  Finally I had an enemy I could see and point out to others, one that didn’t require a mysterious intuition or the spiritual gift of discernment to identify.

I can understand that, wholeheartedly.  While Harris had an unseen enemy, I had no enemy.  So latching onto a concrete enemy was a gift from God Himself.  Furthermore, this new, tangible enemy offered a tangible strategy for fighting back:  politics.

Suddenly, “fighting the enemy” meant speaking out against abortion, homosexuality, and premarital sex.  It meant voting for the “holy” candidates so that they could defeat the “evil” ones and stop their “evil” plans[4].  Suddenly, there was a way to become a righteous crusader with a clear path.

Ironically, while this gave me a tangible “enemy,” what it did to my perceptions of the “enemy” was almost the exact opposite.  Adulterers, fornicators, homosexuals, and all those other people ceased to become people and became caricatures in my mind.  My “tangible enemy” turned into smoke and mirrors again.  I find myself wondering if Harris intended this chapter to explain the need to reconnect with “flesh and blood” people discussed in the previous one.

Related Posts

I have created a separate page to track all the blog posts I’ve made regarding this book.  If this post interests you, I would encourage you to go check out the other posts as well.

Notes

[1]  Well, insofar as a good little Baptist is allowed to idolize anyone or anything.

[2]  “Full Gospel” is the preferred term used certain charismatic/pentecostal churches.

[3]  I strongly believe that even “being good” for the sake of “being good” is meaningless and pointless.  “Being good” is about doing something for others because it has a positive impact on their lives.  It’s about building a better world.  This is not something that I feel is always properly communicated to young Christians, nor do I feel it is emphasized enough.

As a former Sunday school teacher, I’d also like to suggest that this is in part that the much of the teaching materials for chidren and teen Sunday school classes are abysmal.  They do not treat the students like intelligent people who need to learn what it truly means to live a life that expresses the fruit of the Spirit and are ready to do exactly that.  If you are a Sunday school teacher, I would encourage you to re-evaluate your curriculum and honestly ask yourself if it insults, patronizes, and holds back your students.

[4]  I’m engaging in a certain amount of hyperbole here.  However, don’t overestimate just how much.


Books, Gender and Sexuality, Sexuality

C.S. Friedman and Heterosexual Privilege

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Slash fan art drawn by Yukipon, based on descr...

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While looking over C.S. Friedman‘s website as part of writing my blog post about her treatment of religion in her fiction, I ran across her commentary on slash fiction[1] that she included in her FAQ page.  Apparently, Friedman is not a fan of us gay people, and presumably other QUILTBAG individuals as well.  That may change my opinion of her, though it doesn’t really change my opinion of or appreciation of her fiction.  She doesn’t have to approve of my sexual orientation — though I would love to challenge where she thinks she gets off disapproving of it, either.  After all, it’s my life, not hers.  Not her life, not her business.

But what really got me was the following statement regarding slash fiction:

I admit to no comprehension at all about why this appeals to folks….

Personally, I admit that I cannot comprehend how someone can be that wrapped up in heterosexual privilege that they just don’t get why at least gay people[2] might like to see stories about same-sex couples.  It leaves me wondering just how blind they are to gay people (and others in the QUILTBAG spectrum) and their basic humanity.  So while I doubt Ms. Friedman will ever read this, allow me to offer a simple explanation:

Some of us like slash-fiction because we like to see relationships and sexual activities that mirror our own interests and desires.

Is that really so hard to comprehend?

Seriously, think about this for a moment.  For many people, part of the enjoyment of reading is to identify with the characters, to put yourself in their shoes.  I often either imagine myself as being one of the characters or being there with them.  I think most people like characters whose minds and bodies we can slip into and share.

That illusion, that experience of identification, can be severely stunted for me when the character I identify with suddenly starts romantically pursuing or becomes sexually involved with a woman.  Suddenly, we are very different people at a very basic level.  They are doing something that I wouldn’t do and wouldn’t want to do.  I’m left behind, separated.

And almost every single book I read is filled with characters whose romantic and sexual pursuits are foreign to me.  It can be frustrating and lonely.

So when someone takes a world and characters that I absolutely love and identify with on so many levels and adds in romantic and sexual elements that I can identify with, that’s pure gold to me.  To be honest, I’m surprised I don’t write slash fiction myself.

Of course, what really gets me is that having just read The Magister Trilogy — which explores sexuality as well as its intersection with power and violence quite extensively — I admit that I’m quite tempted to pick up my pen and write about gay characters in the world C.S. Friedman created for the series.  Quite frankly, the series is begging for someone to do it.  At least that’s my opinion.  The series brings questions to my mind.  What would happen if a male ikati bonded with a gay human?  Would such a mating even be possible?  If so, would two gay men each bonded to an ikati be able to form a relationship of any kind with one another? Would there ever be such a thing as a gay ikati?  How would that effect the mating dance and the species’ overall aggression?[3]

These questions seem obvious to me.  These questions nag at me to the point that I’m seriously considering a new writing project.  And while I can certainly understand that these question may not interest Friedman in they way that the interest me, I am astounded that she’s completely blinded to such questions’ very existence or the idea that for some of us, those questions would be hard to ignore.

I can only write it off as immense heterosexual privilege.

Update:  For anyone interested, I have talked further about some of my ideas for playing in C.S. Friedman’s world over at WdC.

Notes:

[1]  For those who may not be familiar with the term, slash fiction is a special category of fanfiction that describes and explores same-sex romantic and sexual pairings.  For example, I understand there are a large number of slash fiction stories in which Harry Potter and Draco Malfo either get romantically involved or just plain get freaky.

 

[2]  In reality, I also know of heterosexual people who like to see same-sex pairings for a multitude of reasons.

[3]  Of course, the whole premise of the ikati species is predicated on the presumption gender essentialism.  How would the introduction of transgender individuals (either human or ikati) challenge or change the whole premise?  I bring this up in a footnote because I simply don’t feel I am qualified to address this issue beyond asking it and hoping someone else might choose to tackle it.

For that matter, I think there could be some interesting points of analysis of comparing and contrasting the characters of Siderea, Gwynofar, and Kamala from a feminist perspective.  That is something I might consider attacking, though I’ll gladly hand that project over to any of my readers who are much more grounded in feminist thought.


Books, Religion

C.S. Friedman and Religion

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Last night, I finished reading C.S. Friedman’s final book in her Magister Trilogy, Legacy of Kings.  It was a compelling and captivating end to a fantastic (pun not intended) series of books.  In many ways, I feel sad leaving behind the world of Souleaters and Magisters and the people (and creatures) that inhabit those worlds.

However, as I think of the series as a whole and her equally excellent Coldfire Trilogy, what really gets my notice is the skill, criticality, and sensitivity with which she writes about religion.  In both series, she writes about characters who follow diverse religions and yet work together.  And in both series, she describes one religion (though unique to each series) that is monotheistic in nature and, in my opinion anyway, bears numerous similarities to Christianity (or at least certain expressions of Christianity).  Whether it is the authoritarian church created by Prophet-turned-traitor Gerald Tarrant to tame the chaotic and deadly fae or the Penitent Church of King Salvator that believes the soul-devouring ikati are the punishment of the Destroyer for mankind’s sins, the monumental religion in question takes on trapping that are reminiscent of the dominant monotheistic faith in our own society.

What I find interesting about Friendman’s treatment of these religions is that she offers a thoughtful and critical — yet not damning — analysis of these monotheistic religions, and Christianity by analogy.  She seeks to explore what she clearly believes are both strengths and weaknesses of the faiths of her creation, offering a commentary that is neither too harsh more too fawning.

One of the methods she accomplishes this is through the stories characters who practice these faiths.  She explores how their faith influences their actions and how the trials they face challenge, strengthen, and occasionally alter their faith.  In effect, she creates deep characters of substance to occupy and portray these religions rather than strawmen to prop them up or tear them down.  Damien Vryce, Gerald Tarrant[1], and King Salvatore are all (relatively, in Gerald’s case) sympathetic characters who put humanity to faith.

Of course, their actions and portrayal of the monotheistic faiths are strengthened by their interactions with people of the other religions in these two worlds, the polytheistic, pagan idol-worshippers[2].  The monotheists sincerely struggle with how to interact with the other people who make up their world, even when confronted with things that are forbidden by their own faith.  In turn, the polytheists are given voice by Friedman to express, explore, and revise their opinions of the monotheistic religions and how those religions affect those followers.

In effect, Friedman writes a beautiful yet realistic world in which the realities of pluralism are negotiated and dealt with.  If only we could do so well here in the real world.

[1] Granted, one might argue whether Tarrant can still rightfully be called a follower of the Church he founded.  But I seem to recall that he arrogantly claimed at one point in the Coldfire trilogy that he still served the Church in his own way, and I’m inclined to grant him that conceit.


[2] Interestingly, neither Friedman nor her characters seem to use this term in a derogatory manner, but in a more technical manner.  And while I might nit-pick whether people actually worship their idols in the technical sense, I applaud Friedman’s apparent lack of denigration.


Books, Politics, Religion

Raised Right: Chapter 1

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humanity. love. respect.

Image by B.S. Wise via Flickr

Chapter 1 of Harris’s book, Raised Right:  How I Untangled My Faith From Politics, bears the title “Flesh and Blood.”  I assume it was chosen for the chapters attempt to show the need to see not issues, but people.  Harris starts the chapter by describing a scene where she, her parents, and her younger siblings picketed an abortion clinic together.  After describing that scene, she speaks of her past, offering the following insight:

I had been picketing since before I could walk.
Understanding that statement and its significance reveals a great deal about those of us who were raised as conservative Christians.  In a sense, I think it makes it easier to understand us — whether speaking of those of us whose politics and/or faith have changed or those who remain a part of the movement — as flesh and blood people.  Our understanding of the religio-political views we were meant to adhere to was formed very early in our lives.
As I mentioned when I announced I’d be reviewing this book, I was not raised with the direct activism as Harris.  I never picketed before I could walk, or even after.  However, the messages about what I was supposed to believe started when I was young.  Perhaps nothing about the political topics that seem to make up most of the Religious Right’s platform, but there were still those subtle messages that set the stage for me to understand what “good people” believed and did versus what “bad people” said and did.
Subtle is a key-word here.  While Harris’s own childhood experiences were direct and explicit, my own (and I suspect others’) was more subtle.  Things got implied more than said.  Or certain things were said and I inferred.  To be honest, I don’t remember ever hearing a sermon about the evils of homosexuality.  I’m not even sure where I first learned that homosexuality was supposed to be wrong, or even that there was such a thing as homosexuality.[1]  But I certainly picked that message up from somewhere.
When we read Old Testament passages like the story of Rahab and I asked my mom what a prostitute was, she said, “Women that men paid to act like their wives,” which conjured confusing pictures of paid cooks and housekeepers.  When I asked how the single mom in our church had a baby without a husband, she said the mom “acted like she was married.”  Apparently, I was too young to know how people made babies, but not too young to know how they killed them.
Harris’s statement above is something I can totally appreciate.  Sex was something that simply was not discussed.  I remember spending the night with one (male) cousin and sharing a bed and wondering if it was okay, because that’s something only a husband and wife do.  I did not understand there was more to being a husband and wife (or lovers) than merely sharing a bed for actual sleep.
I don’t think my own parents meant to keep me naive about sex.  Looking back, I think that if I had asked about it, either of them would have answered me honestly.  They simply weren’t going to volunteer the information.
However “sinful sex” or the consequences of it did tend to get a bit more attention, from other sources if not directly from my parents.  And that strikes me as quite common in conservative circles.  In many ways, the discussion of sexual sin[2] seems to be the only discussion of sex that goes on in many such environments.  This tends to lead to a rather grim view of sex in general.  I know I tended to think of it as a mostly dirty thing, despite my eighth grade science teacher’s occasional declaration to the contrary — a declaration he made the few times the subject came up in his classroom at all.
Harris goes on to describe a protest held in front of New York Governor Paterson’s Manhattan office which she covered as a journalist.  This protest took place when the state’s same sex marriage legislation was waiting to be approved by the State Senate.  Harris describes the shouting, the anger, the jeering, and the rebukes offered up during the protest.
As the crowd yelled, I would at times forget that these were supposed to be prayers until I would catch an “Almighty God!” or “Lord we pray!”
I have seen these kinds of public “prayers” before.  In fact, I recall participating in a few of them during my college years.  The ones I was involved in were not as heated, aggressive, or condemning as the ones that Harris describes in her book, but they were surely sham prayers meant for public piety and acts of showing others our (my) own superiority.  They were the same in spirit, even if not the same in degree or volume.  I think Harris remarks upon this practice when she writes:
I couldn’t help but think of the kind of ostentatious prayers Jesus chided:  “And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by men.”  He must have meant, Pray to Me and not to the cameras.  When you pray, talk to Me.
Harris describes talking about the importance of love and her own struggle with the idea that these protestors would insist that they “loved” the homosexuals and that they merely wanted to help them “out of their sin.”  She thought of how they would compare themselves to a parent correcting a child.  Harris then goes on to share her own revelation in response to that claim:
Then I realized why these efforts at love sounded hollow — because this love was not the way I experienced love every day.  Even setting aside the arrogance suggested by viewing all other sinners as children and saved sinners as the world’s in loco parentis, I know my parents love me because they sacrificed to feed and clothe me every day.  In the end that burden of labor and sacrifice is what gives them any right to be heard or believed when they say “I love you” after they say “you’re wrong.”
I don’t believe I’ve heard anyone express this as eloquently as Harris did here:  If you want to correct people out of “love,” then you first need to show those same people love in other, tangible and edifying ways.  That may mean meeting other needs they might have — which might actually mean learning what those needs are in the first place.  That’s something that many conservative Christians are not good at.  I know I wasn’t.
Unfortunately, my former self and many conservative Christians come to “sinners” with pre-conceived notions about what they are like and what their needs are.  And they act on those pre-conceived notions, never questioning their accuracy or relevance.  This often leads to offering help that is unneeded, unhelpful, and even insulting.  And then the “helpful” person wonders why they get such a negative response.  Their premise for action is completely wrong.
The problem is, learning people’s real needs and responding to them can get messy.  There are rarely prepackaged slogans, ready-made signs, or “witnessing tools” that covers those needs.  And that can be scary.  But I think that’s exactly what Harris is calling for in this chapter:
Unless you are smuggling soup to the Jews in your attic, I think a political act can’t be an act of love.  It can be a good act, even noble and heroic, but love is not something that takes place behind a barricade;  it happens in the breaking of bread and the passing of cups.  Political love is theoretical, directed at some vague “humanity,” and Jesus didn’t say to love humanity, but to love your neighbor.
May God bless her for it.
[1] I do, however, remember when I first learned what it meant for two guys to “screw.”  It was during my ninth grade English class, and a classmate explained it to me in a tone of complete and obvious disgust.
[2] Let’s face it, too:  The two biggest issues in conservative Christian politics are still homosexuality and abortion, meaning it’s mostly — or even all — about sex.
Other posts in the Raised Right series:

Books, Politics, Religion

Introducing a book review

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Funny Religious Sticker

Image by Amarand Agasi via Flickr

Last Thursday, Fred Clark of Slacktivist fame wrote a fantastic review of Raised Right:  How I Untangled My Faith from Politics, a book by Alisa Harris[1] that was released today.  I was fascinated enough by Fred’s review and the quotes from the book he selected that I decided to purchase the Kindle edition of the book.  I started reading it tonight and decided I’d start blogging about it.

What interests me most about the books is that in many ways, Harris and I come from very similar backgrounds.  I was raised in a conservative evangelical community, was raised to believe that homosexuality was an abomination[2], abortion was murder, and good Christians voted Republican.

Where my upbringing differs from that of Harris is that while I was raised to believe all the same things, my family was not very politically active and did not consider it our duty to be so.  Certainly, my parents voted — and always for candidates who promised to stand “on the right side” of various issues.  They considered (and to the best of my knowledge, still do) both their civic duty as well as a part of their service to God.  But they were not people to carry picket signs, write letters to elected officials, or even give to various political organization.  In fact, if my parents gave to anything other than their church, I suspect it would be the Family Life Network, which runs a number of radio stations whose coverage includes the county my parents live in.

I think this is in part because my parents understood there is more to Christian life than the political machinations that Harris writes about.  My parents are far more community-oriented and understand that Christian life is about building and serving community as much as — maybe even more than — it is about stopping “the gay agenda” or shouting down doctors who perform abortions or women who seek out their services.  In some ways, I consider it an advantage to having grown up in a very rural area.

I think growing up in that rural area is another part of the reason for why activism didn’t play such a big part in my childhood, though.  Where my parents live, all that “political stuff” happens somewhere else, places like New York, Washington D.C. and San Francisco.  Sure, there were gay people and women who had abortions around, but it was — or at least appeared to be — something extremely rare.  People in our community were “good people” whose exposure to such things was minimal and possibly even nonexistent.  So picketing is something that would have involved long drives.  And with Boy Scouts for me (until I quit when I was about 14) and twirling baton in parades for my sister who had time for all that traveling to exotic and dubious places?

On the flip side, I suppose this makes my family and me typical members of the religious conservatives’ “target audience.”  I was someone who knew nothing about what gay people were like, who knew nothing of the issues of abortion, or anything else the religious activists beat their drums about.  I had no way of evaluating what they told me for accuracy or honesty — or at least I had no idea how to go about doing so.

So I come to Harris’s book as something of a kindred spirit, yet as someone who’s experience is slightly different.  We have come to similar places — though she retained her Christian faith while I moved on — but by slightly different routes.  And that is what I would like to explore as I go through the book, hopefully chapter by chapter.

[1] To the best of my knowledge, the author and I are not related.

Books

Adventures in reading

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Cover of "Wings of Wrath: Book Two of the...

Cover via Amazon

This weekend, I finished reading Wings of Wrath by C.S. Friedman.  Wrath is the second book in the author’s new Magister Trilogy.  I found it a fantastic read, and I’m disappointed now that I have to wait the third book to come out.  (I had to buy wrath in hardcover because it’s not even out in paperback yet.)

One of the things I absolutely love about Friedman’s Magister Trilogy is her conceptualization of magic.  She describes magic as an act that draws upon and uses up the athra, the very fire of the soul, to work.  In the cases of witches, this means that every spell cast costs the witch moments of her life.  The first book, Feast of Souls, starts out with a witch who knows she’s near the end of her life performing one last final act of magic.  This is after announcing years ago that she would do no more magic so that she might enjoy what little life she had remaining.  The town turned against her and she lived in solitude, until a woman came with her two small children to beg for her help.  The baby boy in her arms was sick with a plague that could kill everyone.  Here’s part of that scene, as scene from the witch’s perspective:

The log in the stove hadn’t caught; the fire was dying.  Winter’s chill seeped into thecabin and into her bones, and she let it.  There wasn’t enough power left within her to keep her flesh warm and heal the boy as well.  Not that an witch with a brain would waste power on the former task anyway…no when there was wood to be burned.  The power was too precious to waste on simple things.  If only she’d understood that, in the youth of her witchery!  A tear coursed down her cheek as she remembered teh hundred and one little magics she could have done without, the tricks performed for pleasure or show or physical comfort.  If she could undo them all now, how much tme would they add up to?  Would they buy her another wee, another year of life?

Too late now, Death whispered.

Dying.  She was dying.  This is what it felt like, when the embers of the soul expired at last.  She could feel the last tiny sparks of her athra flickering weekly inside her.  So little power left.  How much time?  Merely minutes, or did she have all of an hour left to wonder if she had done the right thing?

A young girl, the sick boy’s sister, witnessed that scene.  That girl is later introduced in the story as Kamala, the first woman to ever successfully become a magister, those sorcerors who have somehow learned to do magic without sacrificing their own lives.  They are ageless and can live practically forever.  Of course, what most people do not know is that the secret to the magisters’ survival is that they have learned how to tap into and use other people’s athra for their magic.

I’m anxious to read the final book of the trilogy, as Friedman has managed to weave some intriguing mysteries into the story.  I’m looking to find out who the magister Colivar really is, for example, and why he knows so much about the ancient souleaters, who have suddenly returned to the world of men.  Friedman has also hinted that there is a relationship between the magisters and those ancient beasts, and I’m anxious to find out the connections.

Books, Writing

A great how-not-to book.

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Yesterday, I bought a copy of How NOT to Write a Novel and began reading it. I learned about the book reading the comments over at Slacktivist, and the title (not to mention the part Fred’s commentor quoted) just called to me.

The book is written by a couple of people in the publishing industry. They decided that rather than writing another book filled with hit-or-miss techniques for writing a great novel, they’d describe the numerous mistakes that fledgeling authors make, mistakes which guarantee their manuscript will find the shortest path to the recycling bin.

So far, I’ve finished the three chapters having to do with common plot mistakes. I’m pleased to report that I’ve so far managed to avoid most of those in Harald’s Story. However, the one section did give me reason to reconsider an early scene in the story. I don’t plan on removing or editing it yet, as I think I can justify the scene and it’s not that bad — at least not in my opinion. But when I finish the first draft, I’ll go back and look at it as part of the editorial process.

The book itself is rather humorous. I think the examples of bad writing they provide are even funnier. A lot of them involve some sort of fusion between ergonomics and hydraulics, which is just plain weird. I’m starting to wonder if they’ve chosen to weirdness of the plot device to further emphasize the bad writing they’re trying to draw potential writers’ attentions to. Or perhaps they created such a totally bizarre subject to avoid hurting anyone’s feelings by choosing something that might resemble a potential reader’s own poor attempts at writing.

I’ve been writing a lot of posts about the writing I’ve been doing. I think I may be getting obssessed. I’m not sure that’s a bad thing, though.

Books, Religion

Divine Nobodies: Great Title, Greater Paradox

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As I mentioned in my last entry, I picked up a copy of Jim Palmer’s Divine Nobodies and began reading it this weekend. I finished the book yesterday while at my aunt’s home for the extended family Thanksgiving. Let me just say right up front that it is a great book, and I highly recommend it.

The title of the book is the perfect label for the series of chapters about “ordinary” people that Jim has met throughout his life and learned important lessons from in regards to his faith. Indeed, he relays each of these experiences to underscore his own growing belief that God most often brings spiritual growth and understanding not through “big name preachers” (or even preachers at all), but average Joes that we meet all through our lives. In effect, these people — often seen as “nobodies” in the greater religious movements of Christendom — truly offer a direct experience of and encounter with the Divine.

What I personally find interesting in addition to the individual stories (which are all touching and moving), there seems to be a handful of underlying themes that run through many of the chapters. One such example is the fact that Jim constantly finds his tendency to try and “do enough” and “be good enough” to justify his existence and God’s love for him challenged. (This is a theme I can particularly identify with, as that’s a tendency I’ve also struggled with at times.) Many of his experiences he describes offers another chance to revisit this particular struggle in his life and experience further healing from it.

Another common theme in many of the chapters is Jim faced with his own prejudiced opinions about others and the problems they cause. Whether it’s his opinions of Catholicism and closely related denominations being challenged by Father Jeff, his opinions of liberals being blown apart while he peruses the bookshelves at the home of his daughter’s swim instructor, or his understanding of hip hop being shattered by Doug, the author finds himself having to rethink his hard-line assumptions when faced with real people who should fit those stereotypes, but don’t. Indeed, these many experiences strongly show Jim’s own discovery of a more relational approach to faith and those around him.

In many ways, I saw much of my own perspective in Jim’s outlook on life and the world in general, and even found much theological common ground in the rare instances where he delved (however lightly) into theology. Of course, reading his thoughts gives me a few suspicions about the kind of reception his ideas might find in the greater Christian (particularly evangelical and fundamentalist) community. Indeed, I find myself wondering if a witch writing a glowing review of his book might merely give his biggest critics more “ammo.” But I’m hoping Jim would appreciate my words anyway.

Overall, Divine Nobodies was well worth my time. In fact, I hope to follow up by obtaining and reading a copy of Wide Open Spaces in the near future.

Books, Family, Friends, Pets

Thanksgiving Minutia

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Kisa and Gray

The picture in my post is of my parents’ kitten, Kisa, and one of the “outdoor cats” that often come indoors to visit her, Gray. I figured I’d spice up this entry with a picture that my father took of them playing together last week. After all, it’s catblogging day, right?

As I write this, I’m sitting at my parents’ home, relaxing. I drove down here yesterday morning after getting up, finishing packing, showering, and dressing. We had the traditional turkey dinner with all the extras at three in the afternoon. Then Mom took a nap, as she had to work third shift last night. When she got back up, we all sat down and watched Sky High. My parents had never seen it before and loved it.

Today, I got up, showered, and ran to town so that I could pick up a copy of Divine Nobodies. (Special thanks to Erin for recommending it.) I decided to start it this afternoon rather than waiting until the car trip tomorrow. So far, I’ve enjoyed it overall and hope to write about it after I’ve finished it and processed through all my thoughts.

Speaking of tomorrow’s trip, I was pleased to discover that only my aunt and uncle, Janet and Tom, will be riding down with Dad and I. Of all my relatives, they’re some of my favorites. It also means that conversations during the trip should remain relatively casual and “safe.” So that’s quite a relief. My cousin, Melissa, will also be coming from Philadelphia, which means I’ll get to see her a second time in the same three month period. Considering we went two years without seeing each other prior to her wedding, this is pretty significant.

PreciousI have to admit that I do miss some of my friends right now. I love my family, and I’m constantly feeling more comfortable around them (I even managed to mention a couple of gay friends in the context of relationship while talking with my mother yesterday). But at the same time, I miss spending time with those I’ve built mutually beneficial relationships with over the past couple years. In fact, I think I’ll call Michele here in a bit.

I’m going to skip the common practice of listing the things I’m thankful for. Instead, I’m merely going to say that I’m thankful for my life in general and the countless blessings — both large and small — that have come to fill it.

The second picture is one I just took of Precious curled up on her grandpa’s lap.

Books, Daily Life, Family

Collecting together non-controversial books for family time

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Tonight or tomorrow morning, I’m headed back to my parents’ house for the Thanksgiving holiday. Saturday, my father and I will drive down to York to have dinner with much of the extended family. It’s a four hour or so drive, so I hope to do some reading on the trip. Of course, I suspect other members of the extended family will be joining us, so I need to be judicious in my selection of reading material.

For those who may not know, I am the religious oddity in my family. While I am a practicing witch, just about everyone else (at least on my father’s side of the family) is a conservative, evangelical, and even fundamentalist Christian. This means that sitting with them while reading such selections as Witch in the Bedroom or Anything But Straight would probably lead to all sorts of unpleasantness. And while part of me feels like I’m reaching a point where I need to assert myself around my family regardless of how they may react, the holiday season just doesn’t seem like a good time to do so. (Too bad it’s about the only time I seem to see most of them.) So I’ve started thinking through some choices that may be safe.

The first obvious choice is my new copy of Beowulf. (Special thanks to Pisco for bringing this particular translation to my attention.) I figure that no one can complain about me reading classic literature. And hey, they don’t need to know that I’m reading it for spiritual reasons in addition to literary ones.

As another option (because I always have to have multiple books available to read) is American Gods. Because even if it’s fiction that my family may not care for, fiction is still a relatively safe choice. As long as it’s not erotic fiction, of course.

In many ways I’m looking forward to the trip, too. Melissa’s wedding reminded me that I don’t spend nearly enough time with my extended family, and I need to change that to some extent. Of course, that means putting aside some of my own biases, as I’ve unfortunately come to expect time with my family to be unpleasant. (In reality, the unpleasantness only comes from one or two people, who often aren’t even there.) But in the end, I’m hoping it’ll be worth it.

In the meantime, I’ll be looking over my shelves for a third and possibly fourth choice in “safe” reading material.