We have seen that word, innovation, pop up everywhere. It is the mantra of the creative class. Everything today seems up for a redesign, an update, a transformation.

But what would innovation look like in religion. The answer seems to fork in three directions:

1. “Religion is complete. We cannot innovate, only corrupt its perfection.” This answer usually has one religion in mind and tens to look at modernity as a struggle to maintain religious normalcy throughout the changing times.
2. “Religion is in constant change, but all that change is inessential. The fundamental truths are eternal, the symbols, stories, texts, theologies should not change. Our behavior must change, our social/political engagement must change.” This is the outward looking liberal response. Concerned with social justice issues, or with adapting a particular “church” to the demands of the changing times.
3. This third answer is hard to enunciate. It is a dangerous dive into the unknown. I guess it would sound something like this: “Religion must be re-invented.”

It is this third path that intrigues me. If we were to erase all the world’s religions from our collective memory, then build a massive temple to divinity, what symbols would we fill it with? What stories would we tell? How would we worship?

Maybe this is impossible. Religion is something that seems deeply rooted in time, in the Past, in Tradition. Take a look at any new religious thought, if it is not piggy-backing on a tradition, or mashing-up a bunch of different traditions, it is quickly labeled a cult.

Here is the difficulty: how do we create a contemporary expression of the divine, free from any tradition, without sounding like lunatics?

The way I see it, the word God is a container which each of us fills with different meaning. Some will take a tradition and fit it neatly into God. Others will chop up several different meanings and mix them in, and their unsettle suspension will be God. Others will neglect the word and allow meaning to collect as it comes in, like dust and critters, filling an empty and neglected corner of their house. Someday they will turn to God and find nothing but refuse and debris.

What does it take to look at the world and oneself, and then fill God with a meaning that is:

Honestly You?

Temporally Now?

Independently Free?

Courageously Uncertain?

And what should be the foundation of this narrative? For me it always begins, like any story, with the past. My ‘Creation Myth’ is evolutionary theory. It gives us context and origin, without clearly spelling out how it is this miraculous self-consciousness sprung out of a deterministic universe. With a dose of inspiration it can be written into an awe inspiring account of a mind that crawled out of dead matter to look, wide-eyed, at a universe that silently engulfs it. It is rationally sound but also inspires a reverence for the forces beyond our knowledge.

This mind crawled out of mud, and looked up at the stars, unaware of how it suddenly found itself in this complete world, that seemed to await its very existence.

And when it became aware of itself, it immediately said: God. It asked, God? It yelled, God!

And now, after countless lives, we know. We know how we got here. We have traced out a pattern that tells us how we got here. But it doesn’t answer the deepest question: why?

Afraid we can turn away from the question. We can turn back to a time when the question was answered. Or we can stand in the harshest winds of doubt and uncertainty and answer the question, and happily accept the inevitable contradiction. And then answer it again, and again allow ourselves to be refuted.

As you can see this gets you painfully nowhere. But if you, and countless generations do this, refusing to fall back upon the comfort of an established tradition, who knows where we as a species, as a life-form, as the mirror upon which Existence looks at itself- who knows where we could go…?

Religion Cake

I am putting here a comment from Cole @ Teaching Catholics which really stumped me. And after an introspective trip to Subway, and a cheap excuse for a lunch later, I finally found something (not much) to say.

“I very much agree with you here. We do need a reevaluation of public myths (Western Christianity included. Both Reformed and Catholic.) and a consolidation, at least of purpose. I am stuck though, what if I actually believe in the Christian God? And at the same time, I find my religion, it’s values, metaphysics and political claims, naturally antagonistic to the other Abrahamic faiths and definitely at odds with the various forms of eastern mysticism.”

Wow, yeah. I forgot I was writing from the perspective of someone who has been floating along in the sea of doubt and has no real roots in a single faith. I am one of the bastard mutants of global-multi-cultural-universal-lets-be friends-ism.

I guess, if I had to, I would advocate a private Christian faith and an interfaith public dialogue. For the greater good of consolidating forces against the extremes. But I would maybe prod you to take a look at the roots of your particular faith, whatever it may be, and ask whether it is that way because of your particular placement in space and time, or because you truly believe it expresses the fullness of divinity.

Personally I see my interaction with religious systems like a cake: Christian nucleus dough, surrounded by some Judaism/Islam frosting, and sprinkled with eastern mysticism. And personally I don’t find it to be rational. The only reason I have that Christian center is because I grew up within that culture. If I were to search out all faiths as a multi-angled views of the same divine purpose and destiny, then I would eventually be able to strip the particularities of culture away until I was left with a truly global faith that isn’t a mash-up, but a distilled and pure reflection of the global human spirit, stretched across time and continent. When expressed it ideally could not be traced to any time, and could more importantly not be the expression of some geo-political culture.

But that sounds like crazy talk also, and lacks the beauty of a faith grounded in history, tradition, ritual, and practice.

So after my long attempt at an answer, here is the short version. You got me, I don’t know. I forgot what it was like to actually believe in the Christian God. What a marvelous thing it now seems to me, alien and strange. I say that with a little drop of jealousy.

Fundamentalism, like the name implies, preaches a return to the “fundamentals” they believe made their respective cultures great in centuries past. Multiculturalism looks to the future, embracing the diversity of modern life in a non-judgmental attitude. Both thrive on the notion of ignoring the present, and the real challenges that require action in the now.

As with all ideological battles, and most other things in life, I believe the middle road of moderation and compromise is best. There must be a middle road that embraces the strength, discipline, and purpose of fundamentalism with the openness, rich diversity, and forward looking attitude of multiculturalism.

Why? Because fundamentalism is backwards and multiculturalism is empty. Backward because it fails to draw upon the full range of cultural richness that exists and empty because multiculturalism fails to affirm anything at all, opening its arms for so wide an embrace that it is unable to grab hold of anything at all.

We are at a point where we must solidify the victories of inclusiveness but then turn towards building a new foundation, on firmer ground, and with a substantial moral structure. We cannot afford to respond to the reactionary defenses of the threatened racists, but we can no less afford to build a human community on the vague and core-less idealism of the comfortable global elite.

First, we must condense the vigorous religious traditions into a nucleus mythology that exemplifies the very best of our parallel narratives, all of them viewing angles of the same divinity. Then we must condense our beliefs into a neo-dogma, built upon the golden rule of compassion and the fire of competition without fear of the yoke of discipline or the freedom of choice. We must stand equally for equality and morality, balanced upon both social justice and traditional reverence.

From the little I have lived I have few doubts that the only road up the craggy mountain of life, the accent of growth, is named suffering. It is steep and hazardous.

Of the different forms of suffering, sacrifice is the highest. It contains both suffering and overcoming within it. The eyes-wide-open voluntary submission to hardship, self-sacrifice almost transcends suffering by inverting pain into a strange moral pleasure. When driven by love it is a self-effacing ecstasy that contradicts all reason.

This is why I keep finding myself drawn back to the myth of Christianity. I am incapable of believing in the veracity of the story of Jesus, or honestly partaking in sacramental rituals, but as the foundational mythos of my culture it is impeccable. Hanging from the cross, his hands and feet gushing blood, his eyes painfully rolled upwards, his parched lips, barely moving, murmur to the sky above: “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

He knew, and he was in love with humanity. He did what is always essential in any life cycle. He reinvented the way we see life by destruction and resurrection. He brought the sword and charity together.

All organic beings, or collections of organisms, must change to survive. Change is self-sacrifice. A reinvention of the self requires a death of the old and a re-birth of the new. The harvest is decapitation, the sowing of seeds a stabbing of the moist earth.

We are reaching that threshold. We need to reinvent our values, our morality, our ethics, for all has been tainted by a strange mixture of dogma and relativism- and worn away by time.

As an organism constantly re-news itself to stay itself, so must society refurbish its core to keep it intact. Unfortunately as the pace of life accelerates there is no more strength for sacrifice, no more moral metal to keep us upright through a revolution. Everything is budgeted for the short term, and tomorrow is already yesterday by the time it is barely today.

I just recently gave into the hype and got one of those smart phones, and I was pleased even if a little disappointed.

Now I am by all measures a man with deep digital roots and have been using the various variations of computing devices since I was old enough to reach the keyboard. So much so that I am incapable of spelling without MS Word and doing math without a calculator. Digital machines are an extension of my person, and I have no problem with that.

But at a certain point I felt like I reached a saturation level. There is just so much these extensions can accomplish for me, and beyond that threshold their use becomes unnatural. I don’t mean unnatural in the sense that they are contrary to the laws of nature but that after that saturation point I have to make an effort to employ machines.

So when I got the little phone it seemed like this was the final frontier. Beyond this point it all seemed like a repetition and pointless consumerism. But the rest of the world seems to disagree. News channels report daily on the status of the iPad, the various judgments that hip bloggers dish, the threat of the HP slate…

And even though I feel like a full fledged digital citizen, I already begin to feel like I am being left behind.

But then yesterday, when I was reading a book, (in paper, in silence) I came across a fascinating verdict the narrator arrived at back in the day when he was observing Coca-Cola consumption in Brazil in the mid 20^th century. He said that despite this drink having absolutely nothing remarkable in terms of taste, smell, or any other real tangible quality, people still consumed it like there was nothing else to drink. He concluded that they consumed it because:

“Porque essa bebida que tem coca é hoje. Ela é um meio da pessoa atualizar-se e pisar na hora presente.” Lispector, Clarice (A hora da estrela)

A clunky sentence, but literally: “Because this drink that has coke is today. It is a way for people to update themselves and step into the present hour.”

And that solved my confusion about the iPad and all the other superfluous junk that people line up for and buy just to wait for the next model, line up, and repeat. Its not a material desire to consume, it is a desperate desire to step onto the edge of time, feel the future materializing into present, and be able to hold that old-future and new-past in their hands like a newborn babe.

How a simple line of literature can explain away our anxieties about this strange world. And make these new fangled attitudes seem old and harmless.

“A man must have aunts and cousins, must buy carrots and turnips, must have barn and woodshed, must go to market and to the blacksmith’s shop, must saunter and sleep and be inferior and silly.” Emerson

As I step into adulthood the quote above begins to find a special place in my world view.

Growing up, like most of my generation, my parents always drilled in the notion (and still do) that I was special. Meant for big things. I would daydream of fulfilling those promises, of guiding the masses, leading revolutions, and other lives fit for the history books.

Those daydreams began to haunt me when I realized that my parents, along with most other adherents of the “self-esteem” parenting movement, forgot to warn us that life is mostly made up of routines and repetitions, punctuated by the occasional significant event. Movies compressed lives into two hour narratives that skipped over all tooth brushing and boredom. History books shortened the life of a nation into a succession of grandiose proceedings.

But life is so much more, and so much less than those larger than life moments. Even those days that make it into the timeline reductions are built like a large tsunami: by a series of small underwater waves.

And a personal life can even be devoid of much excitement, end up being private and by all outside accounts quite mundane. But “a man must have aunts and cousins,” and love them. And “must buy carrots and turnips” to feed his body. And, especially in my case, “must saunter and sleep and be inferior and silly,” very very silly.

And there is a hidden beauty in this domestic realm that I am having to learn the hard way. There is an expectation that every day must be worthy of a story and I must actively counter that notion with an attitude that tries to take in the “smallness” of life and extract some divine essence out of it. Some have a very easy time doing this, they breath in the breeze and calm their soul. I am always looking for hurricanes, and those never bring peace.

And so I turn to Rumi:

Work. Keep digging your well.

Don’t think about getting off from work.

Water is there somewhere.

Submit to a daily practice.

Your loyalty to that

is a ring on the door.

Keep knocking, and the joy inside

will eventually open a window

and look out to see who’s there.

The children of Haiti are helpless, especially the orphans who face the terrible future of growing up with no one to care for them in a country going nowhere. But what future does any average Haitian have at all?

According to Michael Clemens, a research fellow at the Center for Global Development, 82 % of Haitians who live above the poverty line live in the United States. Of all the projects, investments, and aid, nothing has been more effective at bettering the lives of Haitians than allowing them to come and be productive members of this country.

“The Obama administration decided that for the next 18 months it will not deport any Haitian. But the U.S. has only been deporting about 1,000 Haitians per year recently. More importantly, the U.S. has forcibly stopped and repatriated about 5,000 Haitians per year for the past 20 years—people who never made it to the U.S. And this policy surely deterred thousands more each year from even trying. When Gallup asked people in Haiti last year if they would leave permanently if given the opportunity, 52 percent said yes. The U.S. is actively blocking the most effective poverty reduction strategy for Haitians.”

Mass immigration from Haiti could even help the US solve its debt crisis…

But instead we sweep in and take the children. And anyone with a heart can understand the motivation behind these rescue missions. But something leaves me uneasy when we are only comfortable taking in the cute and innocent children.

What if the United States were to “adopt” Haiti? Think of the countless lives that could be made drastically less miserable. Think of the weight lifted off a country than can not feed its people. Think of the development spurred by remittances. Think of the noble cause of taking in the poor, tired, and huddled masses once again revived to save our poorest neighbor from decades of destitution.

But of those people who are religiously unaffiliated, 67% of them believe there are absolute standards of right and wrong.

So a question presents itself: where are these religiously unaffiliated moral youth turning to for guidance on questions both moral and ethical?

The most probable answer is that they aren’t “turning” to anything. Chances are they are navigating the turbulent waters of moral choice relying solely on their personal moral compass.

Moral Compass

And even if they yearned for substance on which to base those decisions it is becoming increasingly difficult to see where these young adults can turn to for honest debate on moral and ethical issues. Schools have become more concerned in graduating professionals with marketable skills than forming ethical citizens and so cut funding for the humanities; businesses continue to push their employees to make decisions based on numbers, which are always amoral; parents want to become their kid’s best friend so spare them the “right and wrong” lectures; the silence of political correctness replaces the honest conversation about what should be the fabric of our society.

Ethics has become a professional discipline. Business ethics, bioethics, but no ethics plain and simple.

And so what should we do? Make philosophy another one of the mandatory course in high school along with financial literacy and other new fangled additions to the curriculum? Probably would help, but is utterly improbable.

Can we engage each other? Not without preparation. Without substance and context and some form of basis on which to make our arguments we would have well, the internet: the endless spectacle of throwing opinions at each other like monkeys fling their fesis.

We need a real public outlet dedicated to continual debate of the issues we find present a moral and ethical problem that is tailored to those who are interested in an honest exploration of those questions. And it doesn’t have to be secular, or religious. It has to be honest and well informed, based on three things: real empirical research, an understanding of religious and moral tradition, and academic investigation

All three things can be quite boring. So the final and crucial step is finding a way of communicating all of this depth to the public with media that is visceral, gripping and engaging. Which shouldn’t be so hard given how controversial and thorny the average moral dilemma is.

I was boiling inside as the 3 news televisions I work in front of played TigerGate round the clock. I felt like this was the end of culture, the end of privacy, the end of everything decent.

But the problem isn’t the media, it’s the media consumers.

Take the recent growth of the organic/healthy food market. It took individual consumers, making well informed choices, to force food giants to begin offering healthier choices in their junk dominated aisles.

So for a cleanup of our news outlets to take place, we need to ask ourselves what we are feeding on, and whether we can allow this junk food to dominate our airwaves.

So let’s take a step onto the moral balance and weigh our souls in light of the Tiger Woods binge: What is the root of our obsession with what Tiger did?

1) Do we hope that by exposing Tiger’s affairs, and making his shaming public, we are educating the audience? Like a public execution we are warning men and women: this is the fate that awaits adulterers.

2) Are we caught up in the cathartic pangs of a hero’s tragic downfall? Can we not help but stare as one of our almost-gods once again burns his wings for flying to close to the morning star? Do we have a sick desire for all of them to fall, especially those who seem so flawless? Do we hate our gods in secret when we are not worshiping at their temple?

3) Do we feel personally betrayed? Do we as the public feel like we have been cheated on? (this is a weird idea, but seems to contain a bit of truth to it. We do seem to have a very intimate, yet collective, relationship with public figures)

4) Is it because he is black and his wife is white? Is it because he is black and plays a white man’s game? Is it because he is black?

5) Is it because our society seems to be increasingly dominated by the female voice, a voice that demands the adulterer be lynched, and then revived to sit on Oparah’s couch and apologize to all women who have ever lived for being a normal human being with private failings? (How much of the Tiger Woods bonfire was fed by the tabloid consumer? Why the public cry for an apology for a private matter?)

6) Is it because we are bored? Or have our sights been set so low that it is tabloid scandals that pass for urgent national news?

Maybe the answer is a mix of all these options. Or maybe we just love to wallow in filth.

I am honestly lost in this whole debate. It’s as if people seem completely unable to disregard the crap that is hurled at them all day long. And as access to media and information grows the hunger for news that isn’t really news, but professional gossip, grows.

Is this a reversible trend?