Jesus Called. He Wants His Religion Back.

Today I read a very interesting essay in the latest issue of Harper's. Maybe 'interesting' isn't the right word, because it pretty much reiterated some thoughts I've had for a while regarding the Christian church as it exists today. So I'll call it vindicating, because Bill McKibben said it better than I can. It was titled "The Christian Paradox," and it outlined the disjunction between the commonly-held belief that the U.S. of A. is a Christian nation and the widespread behavior and beliefs of its so-called Christian constituents.

Before I go much further, I should clarify that I'm not aiming to condemn every American who calls himself or herself a Christian. I've known plenty of people who do their best to live their lives according to what Jesus taught. However, I've also know plenty of Christians who live their lives according to the church-as-industry style of Christianity that's become so popular in the last decade or two. You know, the sprawling megachurches with meticulously manicured landscaping, a state-of-the-art gymnasium, and a bookstore across the hall from the sanctuary. The kind that claims the Bible as the infallible word of God and yet seems to put more stock in the words of whatever theologian is most in vogue at any given time.

The latter is the brand of Christianity that McKibben is talking about. This is the brand of Christianity that frequently overlooks that second-greatest commandment part of the New Testament ("love your neight as yourself") in favor of a quote by Ben Franklin - "God helps those who help themselves." (McKibben points out that three out of four Americans believe that these words can actually be found in the Bible.) Last time I was in a Christian bookstore, which admittedly was a few years ago, the majority of the books it was peddling seemed to be more of the self-help variety - how to have a closer relationship with God, how to have a closer relationship with your spouse, how to organize your family into a hierarchy God would approve of, how to divine the date of the rapture from Leviticus, et cetera. I'm not saying that any of this is inherently bad. But if the purpose of these books is to help the reader live a more Christlike life, maybe a few other subjects could be covered. How to organize a soup kitchen, for instance. Sure, it sounds like a no-brainer, but I bet there are people out there who would be more inspired to actually do such a think if they had some helpful recipes, suggestions to make things run more smoothly, and some idea of what kinds of red tape is involved. Somewhere on the way to finding a ladle, a whole lot of Christians got caught up in finding a pagan pet-sitter for Fido on the day they meet Jesus in the air.

Perhaps what I admire most about McKibben's essay is that he is still willing to call himself a Christian. He clearly hasn't lost his faith in the religion, in spite of the tax cuts for the wealthy being pushed by the Christian right in his name and the names of the 85 percent of Americans who also consider themselves Christians. As for me, I'm starting to want some distance from the term. I've been doing some research on Buddhism for my thesis, and it's starting to look pretty good.

Read McKibben's article here

Scent Memory

Today I put on some traditional Vietnamese music. You know, the kind with minor tones that sounds like the "Chinese music" you played on all the black keys on the piano as a kid. Or at least I did. Hearing the simple melodies of the strings inspired me to dig out the incense I bought in a town somewhere around An Giang Province three years ago. I'd never opened the package, let alone burned any; it's spent the last three years triple-bagged in a box with all my other Vietnam loot that I get out when I'm feeling sentimental. Today, however, I decided to burn some.

Now, anyone who's been to a Buddhist temple, or even near an altar in the home of someone who worships his or her ancestors, knows how potent joss sticks are. Their purpose is to carry the prayers of those who use them up to heaven, so some wimpy Glade scent isn't going to cut it. This is why they've spent three years triple-bagged in a box. Sentimental as I am, I didn't want everything I own to smell like a temple. But today the smell seemed pleasant. I'm sure this is due in part to the fact that they've been around for a few years and their potency has waned. But as soon as I opened the first bag, it didn't smell like the stinky perfume I remembered. It smelled spiritual, like something that belonged in a holy place. And I was transported back to that Sunday morning three years ago when a few of my new Vietnamese friends picked up a group of us Americans to drive around Long Xuyen on motorbikes and see what religion was like in Vietnam.

We started at some Buddhist temples, which is where the scent of incense comes in. It's everywhere in the temple, because it's commonly used for worship; as I mentioned before, the smoke carries one's prayers up to heaven. At the second temple, the student I knew best, Tam, cast her fortune. She started with a joss stick, which she held between the palms of her hands as she prayed. I think she rubbed her hands together rapidly as she did it to make the incense spin back and forth; either that or she shook her hands up and down together. (I've seen both done; maybe it has something to do with making the smoke travel farther?) Then she walked up to the altar and stuck the joss stick in a pot full of sand along with a bunch of other burned down or half-burned joss sticks. Then she took a pair of kidney-shaped objects that were mirror images of each other, each with a flat side and a round side. She held them between her palms with the flat sides together, then raised them over her head and dropped them. The object was to get one flat side and one round side facing up; this seemed to be some kind of signal of preparedness to cast one's fortune (she kept doing it until she got the desired effect). After this was achieved, it was time to actually cast the fortune. She took a can (roughly the size of a soup can, if I remember correctly) full of narrow, flat sticks, each with a number on it. She held the can at a slight angle and shook it until one - and only one - of the sticks fell out. Whatever number was on the stick, that was the number she looked up in an old spiral notebook placed by the altar. Each number was listed, along with a hand-written fortune. When she was done, we uninitiated Americans took our turns. This probably sounds a little Ouija Board-ish, but it felt genuine. It really did. And I was a strict, no-way-to-heaven-but-Christ Christian at the time.

My fortune didn't exactly pan out...in fact, it became anything but accurate over time. But it was a morning that's still fresh in my mind. I guess scent really is the strongest sense tied to memory.

Independence

The Fourth of July was quite eventful for me, as were the days leading up to it: pool, fireworks, beer pong, darts, a couple of cookouts, more fireworks. It's always fun to watch gunpowder explode in various colors and patterns, especially when it's happening in the street in front of someone's house. I don't think I've ever celebrated the Fourth of July to the extent that this one was celebrated; I'm not that patriotic. But it was still a fun several days.

Today, however, was less celebratory. I received official notification that I've been turned down for a job in voluntary service because I'm not married. The job description didn't call for a married couple when I started the application, but it was changed somewhere in the midst of the process. Still, I don't understand why my marital status is the least bit relevant. I live by myself now, and yes, it's different from living alone in Vietnam, but I know several people who have done it and one who's doing it right now. Would being attached to another person make me a better teacher? I can't see how. Are these people afraid of a single woman who is self-sufficient? Do they think I need a man to keep me under control or something?

If you're going to pass me over for a job based on my qualifications, that's fine. I can accept that. But if you're going to pass me over because of my marital status, I can't accept that. I thought we were past that; I was under the impression that a person's worth was measured by his/her individual qualities, not by his/her ability to find a mate. Apparently, though, being an independent woman isn't conducive to getting the job I want.