"Auschwitz, the Soviet gulags, and the killing fields of Cambodia are not examples of what happens to people when they become too reasonable. To the contrary, these horrors testify to the dangers of political and racial dogmatism. It is time that Christians stop pretending that a rational rejection of faith entails the blind embrace of atheism as a dogma. One need not accept anything on insufficient evidence to find the virgin birth of Jesus to be a preposterous idea...I know of no society in human history that ever suffered because its people became too desirous of evidence in support of their core beliefs.

While you believe that bringing an end to religion is an impossible goal, it is important to realize that much of the developed world has nearly accomplished it. Norway, Iceland, Australia, Canada, Sweden, Switzerland, Belgium, Japan, the Netherlands, Denmark, and the United Kingdom are among the least religious societies on earth. According to the UN Human Development Report they are also the healthiest, as indicated by life expectancy, adult literacy, per capita income, educational attainment, gender equality, homicide rate, and infant mortality. Insofar as there is a crime problem in Western Europe, it is largely the product of immigration. Seventy percent of the inmates of France's jails, for instance, are Muslim...conversely, the fifty nations now ranked lowest in terms of the United Nations' human development index are unwaveringly religious.

Other analyses paint the same picture: the US is unique among wealthy democracies in its level of religious adherence; it is also uniquely beleaguered by high rates of homicide, abortion, teen pregnancy, sexually transmitted disease, and infant mortality. The same comparison holds true within the US itself: Southern and Midwestern states, characterized by the highest levels of religious literalism, are especially plagued by the above indicators of social dysfunction, while the comparatively secular states of the Northeast conform to European norms.

...Of course, correlational data of this sort do not resolve questions of causality- belief in God may or may not lead to societal dysfunction; societal dysfunction may foster a belief in God; each factor may enable the other; or both may spring from some deeper source of mischief. Leaving aside the issue of cause and effect, however, these statistics prove that atheism is compatible with the basic aspirations of a civil society; they also prove, conclusively, that widespread belief in God does not ensure a society's health."

-Sam Harris, Letter to a Christian Nation

A Christian society condemns the torture of Jews during the Holocaust while worshiping a God who intends for Jews to be tortured for all of eternity.

Is there something wrong with this picture?

"We live in an age in which most people believe that mere words- "Jesus," "Allah," "Ram" - can mean the difference between eternal torment and bliss everlasting. Considering the stakes here, it is not surprising that many of us occasionally find it necessary to murder other human beings for using the wrong magic words, or the right ones for the wrong reasons. How can any person presume to know that this is the way the universe works? Because it says so in our holy books. How do we know that our holy books are free from error? Because the books themselves say so. Epistemological black holes of this sort are fast draining the light from our world...Because most religions offer no valid mechanism by which their core beliefs can be tested and revised, each new generation of believers is condemned to inherit the superstitions and tribal hatreds of its predecessors....The point is that most of what we currently hold sacred is not sacred for any reason other than that it was thought sacred yesterday. Surely, if we could create the world anew, the practice of organizing our lives around untestable propositions found in ancient literature-to say nothing of killing and dying for them- would be impossible to justify. What stops us from finding it impossible now?"

-Sam Harris

The End of Faith: Religion, Terror, and the Future of Reason

Fallen

"God has been trying an experiment on my faith or love in order to find out their quality. He knew it already. It was I who didn't. In this trial He makes us occupy the dock, the witness box, and the bench all at the once. He always knew that my temple was a house of cards. His only way of making me realize the fact was to knock it down." - C.S Lewis, A Grief Observed

I'm not a Mac user, and the only Apple product I own is an old iPod. However, I can't seem to escape Steve Jobs quotes this week with his recent passing, and this one in particular inspired me. It was from a speech he gave at a Stanford commencement a few years ago, and can't seem to describe my life more perfectly right now...

"Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.”

I know I dreamed you a sin and a lie

I have my freedom

But I don't have much time

Faith has been broken

Tears must be cried

Let's do some living before we die.

Wild horses couldn't drag me away

Wild, wild horses,

we'll ride them someday

Honesty We Don't Hear On Sunday Morning

God had to send his son to rescue men

From wrongs committed way back when

On the day we ate from God's tree of sin

And sent ourselves to eternal hell again and again

But we never stop and say

Perhaps this was a cruel joke to play

Why would a loving God put the tree on their path that day?

Like a father who throws his naive children in harms way

Or a sadistic psychopath, preparing for his prey.

And from this we still suffer, everyday.

A Room Called Remember

The time is ripe for looking back over the day, the week, the year, and trying to figure out where we have come from and where we are going to, for sifting through the things we have done and the things we have left undone for a clue to who we are and who, for better or worse, we are becoming. But again and again we avoid the long thoughts...we cling to the present out of wariness of the past. And why not, after all? We get confused. We need such escape as we can find. But there is a deeper need yet, I think, and that is the need- not all the time surely, but from time to time- to enter that still room within us all where the past lives on as part of the present,

where the dead are alive again, where we are most alive ourselves to turnings and to where our journeys have brought us. The name of the room is Remember. The room where, with patience, with charity, with quietness of heart, we remember consciously to remember the lives we have

lived. -Frederick Buechner

"I want to keep walking away from the person I was a moment ago, because a mind was made to figure things out, not to read the same page recurrently."

-Donald Miller

Why I Dread the Job Hunt

"Tell me what dishonesty means to you."

...This was the first question I heard in a job interview last week, and I couldn't help but laugh as soon as I heard it. It exemplifies what I dread about finding a new job. Despite my clean resume, my solid references, and the fact that I showed up fifteen minutes early, the person on the other side of the table is glaring at me like I am someone who will show up to work 2 hours late and promptly steal half the merchandise.

"I will work you for your paycheck."

...I realize it's a bad economy, but shouldn't supervisors at least attempt to put a positive spin on their management skills? I have never been so turned off to a job in my life.

Last Picnic

Before the fall rains come,
Let’s have one more picnic,
Now that the leaves are turning color
And the grass is still green in places.

Bread, cheese and some black grapes
Ought to be enough,
And a bottle of red wine to toast the crows
Puzzled to find us sitting here.

If it gets cold—and it will—I’ll hold you close.
Night will come early.
We’ll watch the sky, hoping for a full moon
To light our way home.

And if there isn’t one, we’ll put all our trust
In your book of matches
And my sense of direction
As we grope our way in the dark.

-Charles Simic

You can find poetry anywhere these days.

-Tim Martin

Wise Words of Johnny Depp

"If you love two people at the same time, choose the second one, because if you really loved the first one you wouldn't have fallen for the second."

Rape: The All American Crime

"According to the male mythology which defines and perpetuates rape, it is an animal instinct inherent in the male. The story goes that sometime in our pre-historical past, the male, more hirsute and burly than today's counterparts, roamed about an uncivilized landscape until he found a desirable female. (Oddly enough, this female is not pictured as more muscular than the modern woman). Her mate does not bother with courtship. He simply grabs her by the hair and drags her to the closest cave. Presumably, one of the major advances of modern civilization for the female has been the civilizing of the male. We call it chivalry.

But women do not get chivalry for free. According to the logic of sexual politics, we have to civilize our behavior. (Enter chastity, enter virginity, enter monogamy). Chivalrous b

ehavior in the male is supposed to protect that chastity from involuntary defilement. The fly in the ointment of this otherwise peaceful system is the fallen woman. She does not behave. And therefore she does not deserve protection. One begins to suspect that it is the behavior of the fallen woman, and not that of the male, that civilization aims to control.

The assumption that a woman who does not respect the double standard deserves whatever she gets operates in the courts today. While in some states a man's previous rape convictions are not considered admissible evidence, the sexual reputation of the rape victim is considered a crucial element of the facts upon which the court must decide innocence or guilt...

One should not assume, however, that a woman can avoid the possibility of rape simply by behaving. Though myth would have it that mainly 'bad girls' are raped, this theory has no basis in fact. Available statistics would leave one to believe that a safer course is promiscuity. In a study of rape done by the District of Columbia, it was found that 82% of rape victims had a 'good reputation.'

Rape is an act of aggression in which the victim is denied her self-determination. It is an act of violence which, if not actually followed by beatings or murder, nevertheless always carries with it the threat of death. And finally, rape is a form of mass terrorism, for the victims of rape are chosen indiscriminately, but the propagandists for male supremacy broadcast that it is women who cause rape by being unchaste or in the wrong place at the wrong time- in essence, by behaving as though they were free...The fear of rape keeps women off the streets at night. It keeps women at home. It keeps women passive and modest for fear that they be thought provocative."

-Susan Griffin (1971)

The Fidgety Stage

I'm in the fidgety stage.

In case you don't know, the fidgety stage is that stage where the countdown reaches single digits, and my mind wanders easily to images of the sun rising over the Atlantic and all those sixteenth century buildings looming over me. I wake up thinking that I've dreamed of the warm breeze in my face as the train approaches. I can't focus on anything without getting distracted by endless lists of things to do and bring. And of course, I panic about plane crashes. Always.

Anyway, my point is: I love the fidgety stage.

The Mercy Papers

I'm reading a stunning memoir right now by Robin Romm, which describes the final three weeks of her mother's life before she succumbed to breast cancer in 2004. It was named a top ten non-fiction book by Entertainment Weekly, and was also named a Notable Book of the Year by The New York Times. Although it may not be the most positive and uplifting story, it has opened my eyes and made me realize how cancer impacts a family at the most personal level.

"And then there is this fact, too- a fact I can't decipher. My mother told me that she asked my father to list the things he will miss about her when she is gone. My father refused to answer.

'

Why?' She asked

'Jackie, stop.' He said...

I can imagine what my mother wants him to say. She wants him to remember the big red tent they had on their honeymoon, the one with the shaded porch and walls for different rooms. She wants him to remember her sleeping in the sun on a grassy Swiss hillside. The sunburn she got in Mexico. She wants him to say he will miss the dinners, the salads with cucumbers, scallions, and tomatoes cut into wedges and the way she became irritated deveining shrimp. She wants him to remember her twenty year old skin, unblemished from surgeries and needles. The warm days after I was born and they felt like they were the only ones in the world that ever created a baby. She wants a catalog of trips they took, the daily comedies...The are a million moments that will end the day she dies and she wants this acknowledged. She wants him to imagine the empty bed. And she wants him to appreciate that it's not yet empty. But my father cannot meet her there, no matter how much she asks, cries, balls her fists. 'Why do you have to keep on with this?' he says."

For a better book review: http://arjunpuri.wordpress.com/2009/01/03/32/

Obituaries (yes it's a strange topic)

I know this sounds rather morbid, but I enjoy reading the obituaries. I think there's something fascinating about the way entire life stories are condensed into a few small paragraphs. It's always done with such factual and rather mundane information: Birth, education, career, marriage, family, funeral information...and for a little extra money you can even place a picture of the deceased, which is usually a portrait taken in the seventh to eighth decade of their life.

After reading so many of these, the stories tend to blur together, and the people in the obituaries just don't seem very memorable, despite the fact that they've probably lived unforgettable lives.

I wish that there were more obituaries that left legacies behind. Legacies stand out. They don't blur together with other stories, and they aren't easily forgettable. They remind us of the significance of our short time here, and renew our passion for pursuing our dreams and happiness.

A legacy would tell the most remarkable and personal story of that persons time on earth, and would be accompanied by a photo highlighting a major life event for them- perhaps their wedding or the first time they held their child, or maybe when they went on an amazing vacation to Italy post-retirement

It just makes sense to me, but that's my personal preference.

I mean, if I had a moment like this, I'd want that story to be remembered rather than the name of the high school I attended.

I was trying to describe you to someone...

"I was trying to describe you to someone the other day. You don't look like any other girl I've ever seen before. I couldn't say: 'Well she looks like Jane Fonda except that she's got red hair and her mouth is different and of course she's not a movie star.'

I couldn't say that because you don't look like Jane Fonda at all.

I finally ended up describing you as a movie I saw when I was a child in Tacoma, Washington. I guess I saw it in 1941 or '42: somewhere in there. I think I was seven or eight or six. It was a movie about rural electrification and a perfect 1930s New Deal morality kind of movie to show kids.

The movie was about farmers living in the country without electricity. They had to use lanterns to see by night, for sewing and reading, and they didn't have any appliances...and couldn't listen to the radio.

Then they built a dam with big electric generators and they put poles across the countryside and strung wire over fields and pastures. There was an incredible heroic dimension that came from the simple putting up of poles for the wires to travel along....Then the movie showed Electricity like a young Greek god coming to the farmer to take away forever the dark ways of his life.

Suddenly, religiously, with the throwing of a switch the farmer had electric lights to see by when he milked his cows in the early black winter mornings. The farmers family got to listen to the radio and have a toaster and lots of bright lights to sew dresses and read newspapers by.

It was a really fantastic movie and excited me like listening to 'The Star Spangled Banner' or seeing photographs of President Roosevelt or listening to him on the radio.

I wanted electricity to go everywhere in the world. I wanted all the farmers in the world to be able to listen to President Roosevelt on the radio.

That's how you look to me.

-Richard Brautigan's Revenge of the Lawn

Five years goes by...A Poem from 6/25/2006

I want to find lyrics that will express the inexpressible

take me to new lengths and and make this life livable.

I want to find lyrics that restore my faith in you

and you

and you

make it impossible to not know what to do

I want to find lyrics that feed me soul

that swell up inside my heart and lungs and make it full

I want to find lyrics that will capture this summer

every every bittersweet moment until they leave.

I want to find lyrics that show a change

and the waiting in-between.

I want to find lyrics that help explain

why I love all of you so much

no matter why how or when

I want to find lyrics that help me understand this love

even though no lyrics can do this,

but the sweet angels of music above.

Sodom and Gomorrah Revisited

I first read this story at age seven, in my Children's Bible, even though I wasn't allowed to watch PG-13 movies at the time. Thankfully, I was too young to appreciate how truly messed up this story is.

Sodom and Gomorrah (Abridged):

The story begins innocently enough, with Lot hospitably taking in two strangers, who are actually angels in disguise. Then...

1) Male villagers bang down the doors of Lot's house, hoping to rape his male visitors.

2) Lot "righteously" offers up his two virgin daughters for gang rape instead.

3) God rewards Lot for this act of "hospitality" by saving him along with his wife and daughters

4) God turns Lot's wife into a pillar of salt.

5) Lot's daughters recognize God's commandment to "be fruitful and multiply" and promptly get their dad drunk and rape him so that they can be impregnated.

Events that DO happen in this story:

1) Attempted Rape

2) Attempted Gang Rape

3) Rape

4) Incest

5) Violence

Events that DO NOT happen in this story:

1) Homosexual couples are punished for falling in love and entering into monogamous relationships.

...Churches often argue that the attempted rape on the visiting men (angels) in this story translates to a fact that all forms of homosexuality must be abomination in God's eyes.

That's quite a stretch. I don't know about you, but male homosexuals

have never banged down my door demanding sex from my male friends inside.

Also, I would be interested to hear someone explain to me how a God who condones gang rape, incest, violence, and violations of the human rights of women is also the most "loving" God ever known.

The Last words of Jesus?

The Gospel According to Mark and Matthew

At noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And at three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”)...with a loud cry, Jesus breathed his last. - Mark 15:33-35

The Gospel According to Luke

Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” When he had said this, he breathed his last. -Luke 23:44-46

The Gospel According to John

Later, knowing that everything had now been finished, and so that Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, “I am thirsty.” A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus’ lips. When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit. - John 19:28-30

So either...

1) The Bible is the written word of God whose memory became foggy after Mark and Matthew were written.

2) The Bible is the written word of God who, on pain of eternal torture in hell, feels that it is justified to make all humans believe in the total accuracy of three contradicting versions of a single story.

or maybe...

3) The Bible is written by mortal men who had different opinions of what happened that afternoon.

What seems more likely to you?

The Beauty Myth

"The more legal and material hindrances women have broken through, the more strictly and heavily and cruelly images of female beauty have come to weigh upon us...

During the past decade, women breached the power structure; meanwhile, eating disorders rose exponentially and cosmetic surgery became the fastest-growing specialty..Pornography became the main media category, ahead of legitimate films and records combined, and thirty three thousand American women told researchers that they would rather lose ten to fifteen pounds than achieve any other goal...More women have more money and power and scope and legal recognition than we have ever had before; but in terms of how we feel about ourselves physically, we may actually be worse off than our unliberated grandmothers." -Naomi Wolf

The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion" - Albert Campus

Give a girl an education and introduce her properly into the world, and ten to one but she has the means of settling well, without further expense to anybody.

-Jane Austen

More Like Falling in Love

Give me rules
I will break them
Give me lines
I will cross them
I need more than a truth to believe
I need a truth that lives, moves, and breathes
To sweep me off my feet
It ought to be

More like falling in love
Than something to believe in
More like losing my heart
Than giving my allegiance
Caught up, called out
Come take a look at me now
It's like I'm falling, oh
It's like I'm falling in love

Give me words
I'll misuse them
Obligations
I'll misplace them
'Cause all religion ever made of me
Was just a sinner with a stone tied to my feet
It never set me free
It's gotta be

More like falling in love
Than something to believe in
More like losing my heart
Than giving my allegiance
Caught up, called out
Come take a look at me now
It's like I'm falling, oh
It's like I'm falling in love

-Jason Gray

"When I get lonely these days, I think: So BE lonely, Liz. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience. But never again use another person's body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings."

-Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love)

The Importance of the Falling Man

Some images just get at the truth.

Images that people conjure of 9/11 tend to show the bigger picture. They may be the second plane crashing into the Twin Towers, or the aerial views of buildings wrapped in smoke and fire, or perhaps even the heroic fire fighters raising an American flag out of the ash and rubble. In theory, we are aware that thousands died that day, but it's less overwhelming if we look at the event as a whole instead of considering each personal tragedy.

As Joseph Stalin supposedly said,

"The death of one man is a tragedy, the death of millions is a statistic."

Recently, I watched the documentary "The Falling Man" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BXnA9FjvLSU) and learned of a photo taken by Richard Drew which showed an anonymous man falling from the North Tower at 9:41:15 on that day. It took me over nine years but for the first time, I understood the gravity of this event, and appreciated the true tragedy that struck our home soil that day. A man went to work at 8am, and 100 minutes later, he was forced to decide the manner of his death: fire or falling. Hundreds of people working in the towers that day made the same fateful decision as him, and approximately 200 of them ultimately decided to jump.

Unfortunately, photos like this- ones that communicate the true suffering of the events that day- have been criticized by media and individuals because they are "too disturbing for public display." I have trouble understanding this logic, because what happened that day was disturbing. Ignoring images that hold uncomfortable truths won't erase those events from our history.

"The are photos in history that are flash points, that really get at the truth. They are hard to look at, but there are certain photos that just tell the story. And in this case, it got to the humanity in a way that other photos, even ones that might be more graphic, would not...we had to capture the enormity of this event. There had never been anything like it prior, and the images were absolutely critical. I really think it did cause anybody that looked at the photo to think about that- 'what would I do?' ...and realize the absolute horror of making that choice. And I think maybe that's the personal space that we went to with some people."

-The Falling Man

We were cast-off gowns and cozy fires

A warm place for rainy April nights

We were young lovers and music connoisseurs

A soft place to fall for dreams to write

We were sitting solemn and silent in well-lit lots

A strange loss of appetite I never forgot

We were your straying imagination

An era of love you left behind

We were old friends and a failed relationship

Watching fireflies in early June

We were worldly and awkward and untoward

Poor timing now that you loved me and my love had moved

We were discouragement and disappointment

A difference you feel that makes you drink and discuss

We were cold and empty and disconnected

Jack Daniels and cigarette smoke consuming us like a cloud of dust

We are forever bound in history and heartbreak

A sharp pain that returns whenever fear creeps in

We are the first love that never forgets

The dangers of loving too soon.

The Long and Short of Long Distance Love

"Of course, people will tell you that you're kidding yourself, that you're naive, that you can't possibly know if a relationship will last unless you're in it day to day, unless you witness the entire evolution of a skin blemish and are familiar with the whole array of ugly shirts. The long-distance relationship, though the domain of dreamers, is also a haven for self-deluders, for noncommitters, for, some might say, lazy bums. It's for those who want the perks of romance—the flowers on Valentine's Day, the guarantee of a phone call at night—without doing the hard work of a real relationship.

But, oh, the fondness that can bloom in a heart that knows so much absence! Is there any emotion richer than longing, any moment more heartbreaking than the moment you put down the telephone receiver after a marathon call with the one you love but for whatever reason are not with? The long-distance relationship may have its limits, but those who repudiate its merits, who chalk up the whole endeavor to immaturity or fear or laziness, are surely suffering from a woefully conventional view of relationships. Long-distance relationships have an urgency that couples in short-distance relationships can only dream of. Every second together counts. Every shared meal is savored; every kiss must be good enough to last weeks, maybe even months. Have you really lived, after all, if you haven't searched for your beloved's face at an airport gate, cursing the flight delay because you have only a weekend before you must part again? We should all be so lucky to seal in our memories the image of our lover on our doorstep, suitcase in hand, clothes wrinkled from a long trip, skin emanating a scent that we've forgotten but suddenly comes rushing back, bringing with it the recollection of the last time, which was too long ago and too brief, and ended with a tearful goodbye on this same doorstep....

...Because contrary to what the cynics say, distance is not for the fearful; it's for the bold. It's for those who are willing to spend a lot of time alone in exchange for a little time with the one they love. It's for those who know a good thing when they see it, even if they don't see it nearly enough. Yes, the long-distance relationship may be doomed. You can't go on that way forever. But as long as you do, you'll embody the twin virtues of independence and imagination. As you fall asleep alone, you'll conjure the scent of your lover's neck, the timbre of a voice over fiber optics, the ecstasy of seeing his face at the front door, which, thanks to him, is your favorite place in the whole house. After so much time apart, a suitcase itself is an aphrodisiac. The boy next door doesn't have a prayer."

By Meghan Daum

Problems

This is the way I need to think right now.

Something to Believe In

You spend your days alone still hoping for the truth
But all you hear are lies
No one else is going to tell you what to do now
No one else is going to help you hold the line.

-Parachute

To New Beginnings

The day I began blogging? February 17th, 2004. I was in ninth grade, and mainly concerned about whether I should wear a skirt to school the next day. Seven years later, and so much has changed, except of course, for the fact that I am still wondering if a skirt is appropriate for the temperatures tomorrow.

In a way, I feel pretty cool that I've been keeping a record of my life since my early teenage years. In another way, I feel kind of stupid that I went out of my way to document the stupid decisions I inevitably made (and still am making) on this journey to adulthood. Sometimes I can't help but cringe as I read through the poor grammar and notice that until 2006 I had "lol" written somewhere in each post.

But I digress, the point is that 2004 was a long time ago, and so was ninth grade. Tonight is May, 16th 2011, and as I lie in bed dreading three impending finals this week, I'm realizing that my life is about to change. And I don't mean change in a minor, somewhat unnoticed sort of way, or in a gradual and soft kind of way. I mean in a graduating from college, getting thrown out into the world, terrifying sort of way.

We'll get into that later. The point is, part one of my book is ending, and as I begin part two, I feel the need to start fresh with other things in my life. This blog is step one of that agenda. As much as I love my xanga page, I exited Junior High years ago and this is long overdue.