Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 22, 2017

Our Political State ~ Not Business as Usual

LIA sticker from Left in Alabama
When I began this blog, Not Dark Yet, I first described it as an odd mix of poetry, political commentary, and spirituality. I later emended that to poetry, social commentary, and spirituality, because I realized that it is social commentary rather than political agenda that drives my concern in this blog space. I then decided that I would create a separate satirical blog, The Vidalia Onion Fake News Rooted in the South which I would reserve for the occasional political commentary for a satirical take on what is going on in the world of politics. (I should note that I used that term Fake News in 2013, before Mr. Trump began using it for the mainstream media). I had some fun with that site when I needed to express my exasperation over what those politicians were doing.

This year, however, that satirical blog has been silent since January. Real life politics has seemed so much like satire that it seemed almost a sacrilege to try to make it funny. Instead, I began a project on this blogsite that I refer to as Journalistic Poetry. I stated at the time that The best thing that poets can do is to bear witness to the times – articulate what is happening in the moment; speak to the real life experiences of your people ... My thinking was that if I could write one poem a week there would be some chronicle of our sacred/tested/doubtful union.

 High Stakes and Low Ebbs

Today I am stepping more into the realm of political commentary because of the increasingly high stakes at the local and national level. On the national stage we are seeing a dangerous dismantling of of our grand experiment in democracy as corporations strengthen their oligarchy while using the nation's culture wars to further ensconce themselves into the political fabric. 

Commentator David Brooks has been an astute observer of our national divisions. He recently pointed out that The acceptability of Trump must also have something to do with millions of religious voters being willing to abandon the practical wisdom of their faiths — that what exists inside a person is more important than what is external, that no bad tree yields good fruit, that you should never trade spiritual humility for worldly ferocity because in humility there is strength and in pride there is self-destruction.(1)

That abandonment of basic tenets of faith while publicly proclaiming religious beliefs has been on national display in my home state of Alabama. In a special election to fill the senate seat vacated when Jeff Sessions became Attorney General in the Trump administration, we have a choice like we have seldom seen. We have Doug Jones, a true statesman running as a Democrat. The Republican nominee is Roy Moore, a twice-removed state supreme court judge whose claim to fame is promoting his own brand of religion while presiding in court. 

Roy Moore (NBC News photo)
For years our state has had to deal with the embarrassment of Roy Moore. He was removed from office TWICE for defying lawful court orders. I don't see how that did not disqualify him from running in the Republican primary. The big problem is that so many in our state hear someone shouting the name of Jesus and wearing God on their sleeve and say Let's get God back into the government. He's our man!” They turn a blind eye to the unethical behavior and lawless acts because, he is one of us, he believes in God.” By our actions, we have abandoned the faith we attempt to preserve.

Religion professor Randall Balmer correctly states:

Moore claims to represent “family values” and, more broadly, evangelical Christian values. Aside from the disquieting specter of a 30-something Moore trolling shopping malls for teenage dates, Moore does not represent the evangelical movement he claims to herald. Historically, evangelicalism once stood for people on the margins, those Jesus called “the least of these.” Evangelicals in the 19th century advocated public education, so that children from less-affluent families could toe the first rungs of the ladder toward socioeconomic stability. They worked for prison reform and the abolition of slavery. They advocated equal rights, including voting rights, for women and the rights of workers to organize. The agenda of 19th- and early-20th-century evangelicals is a far cry from that of Moore and the religious right.(2)

Doug Jones (Birmingham News photo by Joe Songer)
Doug Jones, on the other hand is a statesman who would serve honorably in the senate and would represent our state well. He is the attorney who successfully prosecuted the bomber Sixteenth Street Baptist Church more than 40 years after the tragic bombing. He represents an opportunity for our state to rise above mindless rhetoric and to rationally address the real problems facing our state. Not since Gov. Albert Brewer has our state had a man of such stature and integrity to run for public office. (Albert Brewer completed Lurleen Wallace's term as governor when she died in office, and much to our state's detriment was defeated in his bid for a full term in office by George Wallace's racial scare tactics and demagoguery).

Time to Repent and Vote 

We Alabamians have tarnished the word Christian” and have corrupted the concept of democratic government. I am sad that our corruption and ignorance have not only gained the national spotlight, but that same corruption is tarnishing the country at large. It is time for us evangelicals to repent and make restitution for our sins.

December 12 is election day in Alabama. Our choice has never been clearer. How we will choose is unfortunately still up for grabs. We could take the high road of justice and compassion, or we could choose hate, bigotry, and racism at the hands or a morally corrupt judge masquerading as a religion and family values man.

The sad part is, I cannot tell you today how my state will choose.

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1. "The Essential John McCain," by David Brooks, October 19, 2017, The New York Times, retrieved at https://www.nytimes.com/2017/10/19/opinion/the-essential-john-mccain.html

2. "Religion Professor Says Roy Moore Is a Fraud," by Randall Balmer, The New American Journal, retrieved at https://www.newamericanjournal.net/2017/11/religion-professor-says-roy-moore-is-a-fraud/. (Originally published in The Washington Post, November 17, 2017, under the title, "I know Roy Moore. He’s always been a con artist."



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Sunday, June 11, 2017

Bearing Witness to the Times: Fault Lines

President Donald Trump speaks to the Faith & Freedom Coalition's
Road to Majority Conference June 8, 2017 in Washington, DC.
Photo by Alex Wong—Getty Images
                               
(Headline from Time Magazine)


Fault Lines

Some say it took about 400 years
For Rome to fall –
At least to fall all the way down.
If that is true,
People still saw it coming.
Barbarians fighting in the streets
Is no small harbinger, after all.

By the time it began to crumble
Rome had become identified
With faith and security.
Indeed, it was seen as
The full measure of Christendom.
The well-heeled faithful
Saw despair in the fault lines.

To that despair
Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, wrote
The City of God.
In part, he sought to set forth
The ideal of that city
Not built by human hands
Which can guide our efforts
In living and organizing
Our public life.

The greater part
Was in the bishop’s assurance
That the end of Rome
Was not the death of faith.
Time has borne out his wisdom
And should have made it clear
That faith does not rest
Upon the foundations
Of the cities we build.

Nevertheless,
On our own shores
We set a shining city on a hill
Declaring a Christian nation.
We wed our faith
To our national pride,
Not allowing ourselves 
To foresee the day
When that city would fall.

                                                                                             ~ CK





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Friday, October 9, 2015

Rabbi Rami Shapiro in Birmingham this weekend

If you live in the Birmingham area, tonight (Friday) and tomorrow morning is an opportunity to hear Rabbi Rami Shapiro who will be speaking at the SPAFER Fall Lectures with Rabbi Rami Shapiro. I first came to know of Rabbi Rami through his column in the monthly magazine, Spirituality and Health. Later I met him and heard him speak at, of all places, The Alabama Writers’ Conclave. He is refreshing in his honesty, and in his sense of humor. If you come hear Rabbi Rami, I guarantee you will learn, you will laugh, and you will be enlightened.  

I know this is late notice for those interested, but if you haven't registered, you may pay at the door to attend the event. 


Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Image and Likeness

(Why the "New Atheists" Are Late to the Party and Limited in their Outlook)

The Likeness of God

Detail from Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel
It’s a paper tiger that the “new atheists” love to trot out: that image of God as an old man in the sky that they cannot believe in. They are often heard speaking out against the concept of a God sitting in the clouds ready to ready to smite erring humans. While they are justified in discounting that image of God, they are a little late in coming to the party. In reading the biblical authors, we see that there is a long-running attempt to discount that notion within the sacred texts as well. Within the pages of the Hebrew Scriptures and in the Christian Bible one can see that people’s concept of God was something that evolved over time. Primitive concepts often gave way to new understandings.

Putting Away the Wrathful God

Moses, as envisioned by Michalangelo
carved in stone like so many commandments
One of the few places in the Bible that presents an actual picture of God as the angry wrathful man up on high, which some mistakenly see as THE biblical view, is when God spoke to Moses at Sinai. The notable thing about that divine encounter is that MOSES QUICKLY CORRECTED THE ALMIGHTY, moving God away from wrath and toward compassion (Exodus 32: 10-14). What escapes many faithful readers as well as critics is that even in the earliest recording of scripture, the human writers of the sacred text saw a need to steer away from the concept of a wrathful God.

A few years ago, I posted a light-hearted commentary on that passage in Exodus (Human Reason Calms an Angry Deity -- with the subtitle, "What to do when God shows his ass"). Rabbi Aaron Alexander, in an article on Huffington Post, refers to commentary from the Babylonian Talmud showing how God needs the human factor. Quoting Rabbi Abbahu:

Were it not that a verse of Torah fully spelled it out, it would never have been possible to make such a [theological statement] statement suggesting God's dependence on a human. The verse teaches that Moses seized the Holy Blessed One, like a person who grabs his friend by the garment. He said to him, 'Lord of the world, I shall not let you go until you forgive and pardon them.' (Babylonian Talmud, Tractate Berakhot, 32a)

Mythic Understanding

Some of the richest as well as the most grappling religious writings come from the Babylonian rabbinic period. I think this is because they were living in the highest culture of the time and dealing with the devastation of their own culture. It is from that kind of struggle that deep stories emerge. We miss something important when we continue to look at God in literal terms, tying to "get it right." We miss the point that the myths we tell speak very deep truths about our own inner nature. For example, this story of Moses' dialogue with God is reflective that within the human heart, there is an immense wrathful anger that is quite dangerous, but there is also a very strong compassionate quality. Both of these qualities of our own nature have the potential either to wreak havoc or to nurture the common good.
In the New Testament book of Acts, Paul described God as the one "in whom we live and move and have our being." The apostle Paul, who grew up as a Jew in the Hellenistic culture of the Mediterranean world was speaking to Greeks and harking to the wisdom of Greek poets as he attempted to bear witness to the God of the Hebrews. Paul, as he would indicate in some of his letters, had mystical experiences on occasion which shaped his understanding of God within his own Judeo-Hellenistic culture. His is definitely not an anthropomorphic image of a god removed from creation and humankind, but rather one in which the divine is intimately connected to all that we see and experience. He describes a reality that is in us, around us, and enervating our very existence. Paul's vision is certainly a far cry from an old man bonking heads  from on high.

The Stories We Tell

Mircea Eliade wrote about myth and religion. He talked about how human beings apprehend the sacred in the midst of ordinary life by way of ritual and religion. Reading some of his works about ancient myth and religious practices helped me to realize that the ancient peoples were not simple-minded, as we moderns sometimes assume. I stated before that a difference was that "their mode of thinking was mythopoeic while our modern mindset is scientific and analytical." Eliade understood that myth is not falsehood; myth is truth spoken from a mythopoeic mindset  one might even say a poetic mindset.

Meister Eckhart, 13th century mystic, said "That which one says is God, he is not; that which one does not say, he is more truly that." I would concur. There are no words we could conjure that would scale the heights or plumb the depths of the divine. I would add, however, that whatever one says about God (or the devil for that matter) says something very true about the nature of humanity. The stories we tell are ingenious ways of communicating inner truths that we are often blind to when speaking in matter of fact, day-to-day language.


One of the easiest ways to avoid looking inside ourselves to see our own humanity, and to acknowledge who we really are, is to discredit mythic language and sacred speech as falsehoods, or relics of the past.  Carl Jung was a pioneer in showing how our mythic archetypes reveal much about the human psyche. Jean Shinoda Bolen is a psychiatrist and author whom I had the privilege of hearing years ago. Two of her books, Gods in Every Man and Goddesses in Every Woman, draw upon Jungian concepts of inner archetypes to help people understand why we do the things we do, and to learn how to find a sense of wholeness and purpose.




The poet Robert Bly has done similar things in his work with the Mythopoeic Mens’ Movement, and his book, Iron John, which explores the fairy tale from the Brothers Grimm collection. He affirms the wisdom of ancient story to help modern men to begin to understand why they feel disconnected and how they can make their way back to inner wholeness and connection. Having a poetic mindset, Bly was able to see the wisdom to be found in the ancient stories that emerged from older cultures.



So it is quite alright not to believe in a god who is “the old man up in the sky,” though you are still somewhat behind if that is as far as your disbelief has taken you. There are limitless sacred wonders to apprehend, whether we look outward to the physical world, or inward into the realm of the soul. To gain some insight into who we are and what in the world we are up to, I would highly recommend listening to some old, old stories.



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Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Enriched by Other Voices and Views

 “This imam and the nun work together for healing and reconciliation saying Muslims and Christian in Central African Republic never had a conflict. It is all about politics.”

My friend Don is a well-read academic who is constantly informing me of numerous volumes that he has read, especially in the fields of ethics and religion. He recently sent me a fascinating quote from a new book by Daniel Maguire*, Christianity without God:

"Chang Tsai (1020-1077), a major thinker in the Confucian tradition, produced what is seen as "a Confucian credo."  It begins by saying that the earth and universe are his father and mother:

Therefore that which fills the universe I regard as my body and that which directs the universe I consider as my nature.  All people are my brothers and sisters and all things are my companions.  Show deep love toward the orphaned and the weak ... and those who are tired, infirm, crippled, or sick; those who have no brothers or children, wives or husbands, all are my brothers who are in distress and have no one to turn to.

Francis of Assisi would embrace every word of that credo.  So, too, would Isaiah, Jeremiah, Hannah, and Jesus.  The moral vision contained therein should not fall victim to unnecessary and futile disputes over a deity's existence or nonexistence, its unicity or multiplicity.  When it comes to appreciating what we are and what we have in this privileged little corner of the universe, god-talk should not divide us.  What would be refreshing is a moratorium on god-talk so that together we could explore alternatives to earth's current social, political, economic, and ecological distress."                      
                                                                                              ~Daniel McGuire

I have yet to delve into Maguire’ book, but the quote from the Chang Tsai reminded me of the interesting dynamic in Chinese culture that I learned about when I lived in Hong Kong. There you have, at different times, Buddhism, Taoism, and Confucianism coming into play, with one or the other more emphasized depending on the times and the situation. In our own culture, we also hark back to different influences at different times. For example, why are there so many towns in the U.S. settled by Scots-Irish and English immigrants who named their towns after cities in ancient Greece (Troy, Athens, Sparta, Argo, Corinth, Delphi, etc.)?

It also reminded me of how much my own philosophy has been enriched by giving myself permission to listen to wisdom from many different cultures. Some of that wisdom includes, just to name some of the more prominent in my pantheon of influence:
  • Black Elk's vision of the world (Black Elk was of the Lakota Native American tribe)
  • St. Francis of Assisi
  • Krishna's concept of three ways of knowing God outlined in the Bagavad Gita
  • Jesus' Sermon on the Mount and the parables of Jesus
  • The Baptist concept of "soul competency"
  • Writings from the Quakers
  • Writings from the American Buddhist community
  • Trappist monk, Thomas Merton 
  • Reb Zalmon Schachter-Shalomi of the Hasidic community
  • Rumi and Hafiz, poets of the Sufi Islamic tradition

I realize I am being a bit stream-of-consciousness, but I was reminded of all the happy influences around us. Perhaps some of these strands will be topics for future blog posts.


 ___________________
* Daniel C. Maguire is Professor of Ethics at Marquette University and the author or editor of many books, including (with Larry L. Rasmussen) Ethics for a Small Planet: New Horizons on Population, Consumption, and Ecology, also published by SUNY Press.

Photo: from The Parliament of the World’s Religions Facebook page: “This imam and the nun work together for healing and reconciliation saying Muslims and Christian in Central African Republic never had a conflict. It is all about politics.” See the full story at UNHCR TRACKS


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Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Dying Churches and Post-Modern Religion in a Secular Age


Predictions are Never Easy

So much is being written now about the future of the church and whether faith will be relevant in the years ahead.  Predicting the future is a tricky thing, even when predicting the near future. We can think we have all the facts that allow us to foresee how events will unfold, and still be surprised at how things really shake out. I witnessed one example of failure to predict the future when I was a senior in college. The year was 1977, and one spring day, the headline in the morning paper read, “Speed Limit will be 90 by the year 2000.” The headline caught my attention, as I am sure it was intended to do. The reasoning laid out in the lead article was that with the country converting to the metric system, the current speed limit of 55 mph would be equal to 88.5 kilometers per hour. Since dashboards would be divided in degrees of ten, 90 kilometers per hour would quite logically be the speed limit under the new metric system.

As I read the article, it made perfect sense. The country was in the process of converting to the metric system. We had been seeing Celsius temperature readings along with Fahrenheit on time-temperature clocks at banks around town for some time. We were even beginning to see a few kilometer signs posted along some highways. Furthermore, with the oil crisis that we were still emerging from, everyone knew that our 55 mph speed limit was in place to stay. It was a matter of conservation in light of limited fossil fuels and uneasy Middle East alliances. Moreover, we had found that the lower speed limit on our highways was actually reducing accidents and saving lives. There was no reason to doubt that the metric system would be fully in place and the speed limit would remain at 55 mph.

The reality turned out differently, however. Metrication soon foundered. I don’t know if people thought is was too European, to communist, or too hard to figure out, but the whole metric idea in the U.S. was abandoned. The next big surprise was that when oil prices came down, congress eventually figured that with a seemingly endless supply of cheap oil, there was no reason to keep to a 55 mph speed limit. Thus, my hometown paper’s very reasonable prediction of the near future was a total miss.   

The Future of the Church

Sojourners magazine is running an interesting series, “Letters to Dying Churches.” One recent installment by Brandon Robertson, “To the Dying Church from a Millennial,” is an interesting take from an evangelical perspective.  He expresses the idea that it is not the church that is dying, but rather “Christendom,” or the institutions and structures that propelled a triumphalist Eurocentric culture which included Christianity.  While we are seeing a death which many of us recognize, it is not necessarily the death that we imagined.  Robertson sees a church whose "best days are ahead," yet in new forms and formats that are different from the accustomed institutions of the past (you can read the essay here).  While some mainline churches are lamenting their decline in numbers, and the sight of once vibrant churches closing their doors saddens many, there are others who are proclaiming that the Christian faith is nowhere near dead.

Embrace the Secular City – Imagine No Religion

Reading the Sojourners article reminded me of my experience in college reading Harvey Cox’s The Secular City: Secularization and Urbanization in Theological Perspective. Cox foresaw a kind of end to organized religion as it reconfigured to address the needs of the modern age. He stated, “The age of the secular city … is an age of no religion at all.” He focused on the positive aspects of what can happen in a secular age as long as “secularization” rather than “secularism” takes hold. Cox saw that the anonymity and mobility found in the city were changing the way we relate to one another. The author cited the parable of the Good Samaritan as an example of helping someone in need even when anonymity precludes a personal relationship. Harvey Cox was exploring the implications of how new social norms would affect the practice of faith. His book was one of the seminal documents of modern faith that was being taught when I entered college in 1973.

The Secular City still has important things to say even today.  In the mid-1960s, it presented readers with a prescient view of how urbanization and secular orientation would influence the world. The future, however, unfolded a bit differently from the way Harvey Cox envisioned. Twenty years later he would write and equally exciting book, Religion in the Secular City. In that book, Cox acknowledges that the modern city has indeed seen an expansion of religion rather than no religion. He examines two of the dynamic religious forces at work: the resurgence of fundamentalism and the rise of Liberation theology. You can read an academic review of the book here

Harvey Cox would later write an article for The Christian Century, “The Secular City, 25 Years Later.” It is quite interesting to read Cox’s thoughts as he takes into account unforeseen movements and so many changes, good and bad, that have occurred in the intervening time. Bear in mind, this article itself is dated, having been written in 1990. You can read the entire article here, but toward the end of the essay, Cox writes:

“Tucked away on page 177 of The Secular City comes a little-noticed paragraph that perhaps I should have used as an epigraph for this essay, or maybe it should be put in italics. Secularization, I wrote, "is not the Messiah. But neither is it anti-Christ. It is rather a dangerous liberation." It "raises the stakes," vastly increasing the range both of human freedom and of human responsibility. It poses risks "of a larger order than those it displaces. But the promise exceeds the peril, or at least makes it worth taking the risk.

“All I could add today is that we really have no choice about whether we take the risk. We already live in the world-city and there is no return. God has placed us in this urban exile, and is teaching us a more mature faith, for it is a quality of unfaith to have to flee from complexity and disruption, or to scurry around trying to relate every segment of experience to some comforting inclusive whole, as though the universe might implode unless we hold it together with our own conceptualizations. God is teaching us to approach life in the illegible city without feeling the need for a Big Key.”

Intergenerational Voices, Many possibilities

Harvey Cox has made some brilliant observations about the realities of faith lived out in the world. He is still around and represents the generation that preceded my own. Brandon Robertson, the millennial who wrote the piece for Sojourners, represents the generation after mine.  In other words, I am looking at views spanning three modern generations. The insights shared by these two writers demonstrate that faith in the modern age is quite a dynamic and multifaceted phenomenon. It is also something of a cautionary tale to see that often our best predictions are quite different from what actually unfolds (as in no religion in the secular city, or the metric system in the USA).

We are certainly witnessing a state of flux in the realm of faith and spirituality.  In addition to the position stated by Robertson in Sojourners, many evangelicals are finding new meaning in the older liturgies of the Roman Catholic, Orthodox, and Episcopalian churches.  People from Jewish as well as Christian backgrounds are finding their center in Buddhism. Indeed, in the U.S. many of the world's religions are living in proximity as never before. One thing about the current generation that was not seen as frequently in past generations is that people more readily move from the faith expression they inherited to another faith expression that suits them better (that's what happened with me). While some faith expressions seem to be dying, others seem to be rising. It is a great time to be alive if you are a seeker. Many of us may hazard a guess as to what faith will look like in the future, but there are sure to be surprises as the future continues to unfold.


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Photos: 
Upper: Church steeple of First Presbyterian Church, Birmingham, Ala.
Middle: Stained glass window St. Francis Xavier Catholic Church, Birmingham, Ala
Lower: St. Simenon's Orthodox Church, Birmingham, Ala. 
All photographs taken by Charles Kinnaird

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Friday, May 3, 2013

Religion and Violence

We often hear the claim that religion is responsible fro promoting violence. This is one of the favored talking points among some of the “new atheists” who like to enumerate the ills that religion has brought upon society. Whenever there is a new terrorism threat, similar arguments will break out about the wars throughout history that have been fought in the name of religion.

Just this past week, I read an essay by Juan Cole of Informed Comment.  Cole opens his essay, “Terrorism and the Other Religions,” with the statement, “Contrary to what is alleged by bigots like Bill Maher, Muslims are not more violent than people of other religions. Murder rates in most of the Muslim world are very low compared to the United States.” He makes the point that though we think of Muslims as being responsible for most of the violence in the world, in actual fact, far more deaths and political violence during the 20th century occurred at the hands of those of European Christian heritage than from Muslims. He even has a handy pie chart to visually illustrate the fact.

Cole makes a good point. He seems to be emphasizing that Christianity is by the numbers more violent than Islam, but then he talks about religious terrorism being universal. "Terrorism,” he states, “is a tactic of extremists within each religion, and within secular religions of Marxism or nationalism. No religion, including Islam, preaches indiscriminate violence against innocents." 

Bill Maher’s Two Cents

I was surprised to see Bill Maher cast as a bigot when I thought he disdained all religions equally. I found online a report of the incident to which Cole refers (you can read it here). Maher was holding up a controversial Newsweek cover with the headline, “Muslim Rage” and did say that “most Muslims” think it is acceptable to kill someone they think has offended the prophet Muhammad.  Later in the discussion, the article states, “Maher joked that atheist beliefs would solve a lot of the problems.”

Recognizing Human Traits

When Bill Maher joked (was he joking?) that “atheist beliefs would solve a lot of the problems,” he was voicing what many critics of religion seem to believe. I think the actual truth is that violence is a human trait. Religion is a human trait. Those who imagine that they can eliminate violence and atrocity by doing away with religion are just as blind to human nature as are those who think that only Muslims foment terrorism. As Cole indirectly alludes to, religious teachings attempt to steer adherents away from violence, but there are all those other factors in human nature that bring about violence and destruction. Furthermore, those in power will co-opt religion or any other social institution to stay in power and often violence is the tool for holding onto power. 

Sixteenth Street Baptist Church Bombing
Birmingham News photo
The Birmingham News has been running a series, “50 Years of Progress: 1963 to 2013” highlighting the city’s history in civil rights and looking at where we are today. In last Sunday’s article, “The New Hate: Does religion cause hatred, heal it, or both?” Greg Garrison looked specifically at the role religion has played in the civil rights struggle.  He states that many extremist groups twist theology to reinforce their beliefs and to fan the fires of ethnic hatred. Mark Potok, of the Southern Poverty Law Center is quoted as saying, “People of all faiths use religion to focus their violence when they feel their worldview is threatened.”  Rabbi Jonathan Miller of Temple Emanu-El in Birmingham observed that “Religion can be used to bring out the very best in us, as it often does, and it can often be used as a tool to bring out the very worst in us.”  Certainly during the civil rights struggle in the south, religious faith seemed to be a motivating factor for both sides of the struggle.

There are many factors to attribute to causes for conflict. Religion is just one of the sociological traits of humanity. If by some bizarre construct we could actually eliminate religion altogether, human beings would find other means to rally the masses into war and conflict. My opinion as to what contributes to the world's problems? I would choose "D - All of the above" rather than singling out religion.

Put more succintly, as I heard a Pentecostal preacher friend of mine say many years ago: "You hear people talk about this evil world, but there ain't nothin' wrong with this world – not a thing wrong with the world. It's the crowd that's in it that's givin' us problems."

Moving Toward Justice for All 

The solution? Don't try to eliminate one particular scapegoat thinking that will remove the problem.  Instead, careful attention to ethics and listening to the marginalized of society would be a good place to start. We must come to terms with the fact that we are stuck with our human traits. That doesn’t mean we cannot do better, it just means we need to get beyond the blame game. We must recognize our strengths as well as our weaknesses.  Let faith be a strengthening factor for people of faith, but let us always be subject to ethical standards to move us toward a greater realization of justice and integrity. 



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Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Wednesdays with Dorothy: Religion in the Institution


(This is part of a series. For Table of Contents go here)
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Vineland Baptist Church, Magengo County, Ala
(Wikimedia Commons)
Dorothy had mentioned in our conversations about Partlow State School that there was a building she called the Community House that served as school, auditorium, movie theater, and was also a place for church.  I couldn’t quite tell if church in the institution was part of the official program or if  it was a volunteer effort organized by churches outside the institution. At any rate it was fascinating to hear about Sunday activities and to hear about the resident’s attitudes toward those in charge, knowing that it was not that different from what was happening elsewhere throughout the South.

Church on Sunday

“We had church every Sunday. They let whoever wanted to go to church, and sometimes they would make some of them go. There were different preachers there. There was this one preacher, he’s dead now, Rev, George Butte, and he used to preach in the chapel [at Partlow] and his brother goes to Glen Iris Baptist Church where I go now. I sang in the choir when he was there. Then that preacher left and we got another preacher. We had one old man, we called him “Fairy Tales.” I never will forget his name, it was Dubose Murphy. I don’t know whatever happened to him. Then we got another preacher, it was Brother Clyde E. Brazelle, one day I was talking to somebody and I said, ‘That old nosey Brother Brazelle, he’s always nosing in on something,’ and him a-standin’ right there.  Another lady said, ‘Dorothy Faye, he heard you – he’s standing right over there.’ I said, ‘I can’t help it if he heard me, I meant for him to anyway,’ Whether he did or didn’t. And then I happened to think, ‘Oh mercy! Forgive me Jesus, I’m talking about a preacher.’

“He would always come in we would be a-talking and he would be standing there listening and everything. It just hit me that he was nosey.”

“The one we called “Fairy Tale”, he was tall and skinny, and wore glasses. He’d come out, I think every fourth Sunday. We didn’t much care for him – he never would get to the point of the Bible, hardly, he was always talking about something else. We began to call him Fairy Tales. I thought that name up for him.”

“There was a little ol’ bitty girl [at Partlow who] told me all about Jesus. I didn’t know she knew so much about it. She was the one that told me. Then another lady told me. If it weren’t for them, I probably never would have known about him. I’d go to church or Sunday School, I didn’t hardly pay no mind, what they were talking about, until somebody told me.  My legal guardian tried to tell me. I didn’t understand what she meant when she was talking about the mark of the beast. I thought it was some big old ugly something coming up out of the bottom of the sea.”

Seeing with the Eye of the Heart

On a few occasions, Dorothy described moments that she realized were not “real” in the sense of being  part of the normal physical world, yet had some reality and meaning to her.  One can see how her understanding of religion played a role in some of the things Dorothy “saw” with the eye of her heart.

 “When I was a little girl, I really did believe that I could see Jesus sittin’ on the side of my cot. I was looking up at him talking to him and he was looking down at me smiling. In my mind, I believe I really saw Jesus as a little girl.  I think I was about 12 or 13 years old.”
“Then one night I saw my mother coming down the ward, She wore an orange coat, the coat she always wore when she went to work. She didn’t have no regular job, she had to clean off the grave yards. Anyway, I could see her, and I told her I wanted to go with her. She told me I couldn’t go with her right now. I asked her why. She said they’re not ready for you yet. And she seemed to have on a long white robe, and then she vanished. It really made me feel real good. I thought, she’s come back to get me. She had a pretty color in her face and looked so natural and she was so pretty, I could just see her.”

Another time, Dorothy told about a staff person who had been important to her and whose influence obviously continued after she died:

“The most important people in my life were some of the attendants, and the most important one of them, her name was Aunt Lily Wilson. I remember one Saturday morning at breakfast she was fixin’ to eat a bowl of corn flakes, and she had a heart attack and fell out of the chair. She died that instant. The night after she died, I could just see her with that pale blue sweater on.  I thought about her and I thought, ‘She’s with Jesus.’  I don’t remember how old I was, but that’s what I was thinking.  When I went to sleep, I dreamed that I could see her. She was really good to us. I called her Aunt Lily because she was so sweet. She would always talk to me about Jesus.  She really taught me to love Jesus.”

On the subject of seeing things that are more “spiritual” than “physical,” Dorothy shared some more recent events in her life. As I heard her recount a moment while she was in the hospital in Birmingham, I realized that this was a time when she was alone and facing uncertainty.  In that uncertainty, she saw and heard things that gave her hope and comfort:

“I used to stand in the window in the bathroom and I’d hear them having a revival. I didn’t know where they were. I would just think, ‘I wish I was down there.’ I could hear them having a revival. And when I was in the hospital, I could hear them having a revival. I could see people; they were going to be saved. They were singing and the preacher was preaching. It was really real – it wasn’t no radio or nothing, I could just hear them…it went on of a couple of hours. I thought. God’s gonna do something. I really thought it was a revival going on. That was when I was in the hospital the first time. The second time, I lost my breath and they took me down to the hospital and I thought that I could see Jesus. He was there by my bed side. He was looking at me and I reached out and took his hand. I said, ‘I love you.’ And he said ‘I love you too – I died for you.’  I really thought that I could see Jesus. It really made me feel good. 


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Sunday, June 17, 2012

About My Father's Business: A Father's Day Remembrance

(For Father's Day, I am reposting a blog entry that first ran in September 10, 2010)



"I think the most important question facing humanity is, ‘Is the universe a friendly place?’ This is the first and most basic question all people must answer for themselves.” – Albert Einstein

Clyde Kinnaird
A friend once asked me, "What motivated your father to be different from those around him?" Certainly that is the underlying question that motivated the essays I have written about him, and it probably influences much of my response to life. The question itself is much more effective than any specific answer that might be given. Some questions are best left out there calling to us, rather than giving definitive answers. I imagine that if my siblings were to answer that question, you would get some similarities, but many specifics would be different. So you see, any answer I give may say as much about myself and my opinions (by what I choose to remember) as it does about my father. With that in mind, I will tell you a little more about my father, "Pop," as we called him.

On Baptismal day


Clyde Kinnaird was a Baptist minister and educator. He pastored small churches in Alabama. Later on his career he became "bi-vocational" when he began teaching in the public school system while continuing as pastor in rural churches. Unlike most Baptist preachers, his sermons were more often taken from the sayings of Jesus than from the teachings of Paul. In fact, when I picture my father in the pulpit, I have a simultaneous image in my mind of Jesus teaching on the hillside. To this day, when I think of Christ, I see the teaching Jesus and the compassionate Jesus rather than the crucified Christ. I can thank my father for that image.


Pop bringing me down to the waters of baptism at Lake Martin, August 1964


After my father died in 1996, I became especially conscious of the influence he had in his own unpretentious way. When I delivered the eulogy at my mother's funeral, three and a half years after my father's passing, I said, "Both of my parents left the world a little better than they found it. That is their inspiration and challenge to those of us who remain." It is that realization that caused me to do some reflection and to ask myself what kind of influence my own life may have.

One reason I began writing essays was to put down in writing what I believe and what I value. My thinking is that it is of benefit to me to express it, and if nothing else, my daughter will have a written record of what is important to me. I wish that my father had written things down, but he was not one to write. I have two notebooks of sermons written by my maternal grandfather (whom I never met), but not a single note or letter from my father. I have to rely on memories and recollections of what he said and did. In reality, though, memories and recollections are all that anyone has of their father.

Growing up in Centreville

Pop was born in 1910, the seventh of nine children, in Centreville, Alabama. He was born 45 years after the Civil War ended. My father's parents and grandparents had current memory of living in a defeated nation and an occupied territory, while at the same time being absolutely patriotic with an undeniable love for their country. Pop spent his childhood with horses and wagons, and as a young adult, he was a mechanic who worked on Model A's and Model T's. His father, "Lud", was a rough-and-tough rascal who made a living farming, running a black smith shop, driving a taxi, and serving at least one term as road commissioner. His mother was the local midwife who was known in the community as "Aunt Claudia."

Apparently, he knew early on that he would be a minister. Pop told us of an experience he had at five years of age. He said he was out in the yard playing and was overcome by an unusual feeling, or sensation. He could not fully describe it, but he said he knew then that he would be a preacher. He recalled that he ran inside and told his mother, "Mama, I'm going to be a preacher."

To me, this sounds like a mystical experience that would have been precocious at that age. The way I interpret it is that my father became aware that he was living in the presence of something far greater than himself, and that awareness was an uplifting, comforting experience. My father's explanation would probably lie in something I often heard him say, "Sometimes God gives us a little taste of Heaven just to assure us that everything will be alright." Compare this to Einstein's question, "Is the universe a friendly place?" My father would have said, "Absolutely!" A mystic like Meister Eckhart would say, "Without a doubt."

Pop graduated from high school in 1928. I once looked through his senior yearbook that a classmate had sent him late in life. I was struck by how optimistic his class was in their statements and dreams of going out into the world. I was also impressed with the good-natured humor I found in those pages. The class prophet said of my father, "Clyde Kinnaird thought he was going to be the next Charles Lindbergh and fly across the Atlantic. He hopped into an aeroplane and made it across the Cahaba River. He landed in a field, thinking he was in Paris." It was especially poignant to me as I read the upbeat messages of that class, knowing that those graduates in 1928 had no idea what lay ahead in 1929 when the Great Depression hit.

Moving On During the Depression

My father claimed that the Depression did not have much noticeable effect on his community because most people in their small agrarian town had very little money anyway. Nevertheless, I cannot help thinking that the Depression influenced the timing of my father's higher education. He did not go to college until six years after graduating high school. It must have been a call to ministry that motivated his going on to Howard College in 1934, in the middle of the Depression, without enough money to make it through the first year. Even then, at a time when many Baptist preachers had no higher education, my father completed college and seminary.

One person my father admired, and who surely must have influenced him, was a retired missionary to China, Dr. Napier, who came to pastor the First Baptist Church of Centreville. "Up until then, we had not had an educated pastor in the pulpit. Most pastors would come and stay about 18 months. By then, they would have preached all their sermons and would move on." Dr. Napier, my father recalled, would carry books with him to the pulpit and share with the congregation what scholars had written about various scriptures. "We had never had anything like that before."

Dr. Napier's son, Davie, also must have had some influence on my father. They were both at Southern Seminary at the same time and would often ride home together. Many times while I was growing up, I would hear Pop comment about something Davie Napier had said. Davie Napier went on to become a renowned professor at Yale Divinity School, a United Church of Christ Minister, and chaplain at Stanford University. Somewhere along the way, my father latched onto the conviction that education and religion were vital to individual and community development. If the Napiers did not instill the idea, they surely encouraged it.

A Career and a Mission

Pop showing my daughter
how to shuck corn
Pop said late in his career that he had essentially done mission work all his life. I think that is very true. He spent his life, by deed and example, trying to bring education and religion to the farmers, mill workers, housekeepers, laborers, and merchants of Alabama. On the one hand, I could tell that my father was often frustrated by the lack of education and the dearth of thoughtful religion among his peers. One the other hand, he demonstrated a sincere respect for people whether they were rich or poor, educated or uneducated. He brought dignity to the pulpit and to the classroom, but always related to the working class and the working poor. After all, his own family were farmers and working class people and he himself had been a garage mechanic who went off to college to "make a minister." He was never interested in moving up the social ladder. Pop considered such actions "uppity and pretentious."

He was a conservative man from the Old South who took some remarkable stands and had some progressive ideas. More important, he left his corner of the world a little better than he found it. My father understood when I left the Southern Baptists after fundamentalism had become so rampant and entrenched. I think, though, that he regretted that I was living with the same frustrations that he had lived with. I may be a little more open to change than Pop was. In some ways, maybe I am a little more tolerant, but that is only because I learned from his example of granting dignity to others and showing respect for all.

Attributes of Distinction

If I may recapitulate, perhaps I can sum up my answer to my friend's question of what motivated my father to be different from those around him:

1) He saw education and religion as two avenues for improvement. Pop had a strong commitment to continuing education and a striving toward thoughtful religion (he used to say that religion should be reasonable).

2) He believed in showing dignity and respect for every person, regardless of their social standing.

3) He believed that the Universe is a friendly place.

If I can hang on to those things from here on out, I think it would do my daddy proud.



In Memoriam: Richard Clyde Kinnaird, Sr.
September 8,1910- December 18,1996


For more about my father, check out these other posts:

Trust Yourself: A Message form my Father

A Local Hero


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