I was sad reading his piece, and a little frustrated. He misses so much of what I hold dear about the emergent Christianity. Misses it entirely.

Emergence is how the world works

Here’s the opening sentence from Wikipedia’s article on Emergence:

In philosophy, systems theory, science, and art, emergence is the way complex systems and patterns arise out of a multiplicity of relatively simple interactions.

Emergence, when applied as an idea to the church (the whole of Christianity) is an acknowledgement that systems, including theological ideas, social expectations, language, and ways of doing community, evolve, develop, and change over time. This is in contrast to much of recent Christendom, which has been based on entrenched power, and the fantasy that we have everything all worked out, that the truth is obvious and written down, that there are no questions yet to be asked (except by those who just haven’t been given the answers yet).

This so-called “emergent church” is what has made it possible for atheists (I’ve known several) and others who once rejected Christianity outright to see the beauty in the good news.

The other kind of church allows questioning, as long as it can provide the answers. The other kind of church is all for trying out new kinds of music, as long as the doctrine stays clear and consistent. But the emergent church — the church that’s about people exploring, questioning, doubting, changing their minds when new ideas look more promising — that church is alive! That church is interesting!

Criticism

I want to say a little bit about criticism. I don’t mean criticism of people — “you’re a dummy!” or “you’re the anti-christ!” I mean criticism of ideas. Part of this new way of looking at church involves subjecting ideas to criticism. It means being free to say “But ___ doesn’t really make sense to me. How can __ be true if __?” And out of conversations like that, we get better ideas. That’s what criticism can give us.

In a world where questions are “encouraged” only as an opening for experts to give answers, and criticism is not allowed, or is only given lip service, ideas do not improve.

Christendom is dead

The rule of the elite, with experts creating doctrine and the populace swallowing it, is gone. The emergent church is about thinking, feeling, experiencing the kingdom of God, and being free to see where that leads us. It’s beautiful, creative, and alive. And I’m so damn grateful.

There are all these people preaching hate in the name of freedom. I don’t know why they’re doing it — their idea of what’s important to freedom don’t seem to line up with mine — and I’d like to become curious, some time, about what they’re doing. But for now, I’m just really really sick of it.

Health Care Reform

The current health care legislation is lame and inadequate, but for purposes of this post, let’s assume we’re talking about real reform — the kind that means people don’t go blind or lose limbs or die because they can’t afford health care.

Here’s what I want to tell folks who claim to be speaking for freedom, for limited government, for constitutional government:

AFTER we’re free of a census that asks us to tell the government our “race”,
AFTER we don’t have standing armies all over the world,
AFTER we aren’t in a permanent state of war against a vague enemy,
AFTER we aren’t in a “drug war” that results in a higher percentage of Americans being in prison than citizens of any other major country and kills zillions of people each year,
AFTER corporations aren’t treated as people while being protected from the consequences of their actions,
AFTER we no longer have an IRS that’s above the law and ruins lives,
AFTER the P.A.T.R.I.O.T. Act is seen as a horrible, tragic mistake we once made, and could never make again…

AFTER all those things, and after we’ve solved the problem of human beings experiencing horrible suffering for lack of health care while we stand by and do nothing, let’s sit down over a nice cup of coffee and see if we can come up with an even better solution that honors that beautiful thing called liberty.

This is Eugene, Oregon, where the cops doing a “drug raid” (on a residential neighborhood where people were growing weed) felt they needed armored vehicles and grenades. It’s funny; we’re not a violent people. We don’t accept oppression easily, but generally, it’s peaceful protests the powers have to worry about.

But is it any wonder they were scared? I mean, what they were doing is outrageous. And in Eugene, when something’s outrageous, we get outraged.

I used to be a child.

I had great parents who loved me and respected me as a person. But sometimes, it was scary. And sometimes, I remember.

So tonight, I was explaining something to my son, and I said, “Do you remember the story of that time my family was playing a game, and my sister rolled her die carelessly, and Dad backhanded her?”

M__’s mouth hung open. “Backhanded her? Hard?”

“She had a bloody lip,” I told him. “You sure I didn’t tell you about this? I thought we’d covered all that.”

“Well, we did, but… I mean, I knew you were hit, but I thought it was, like, a rare thing.”

“It was rare. That’s why I remember this particular incident.”

I wasn’t bothered by the discussion, as far as I know, but only a few hours later, when another son was upstairs and said something bold to one of his brothers, I reacted with a rush of adrenaline and fear. Whoa, where’d that come from?

I realized that I was scared. And apparently, my gut was scared that the people upstairs were going to get in a fight and scream at each other and beat on each other and break doors. And I realized why I react so strongly to my children’s inclinations to fight. I have very few non-negotiable demands, but here is one: “We do not speak to each other that way in this house.”

I thought I was done with this a long time ago. I don’t dwell on misfortune, but I acknowledge it, grieve and move on. But this year has held some surprises. This year I remember what it felt like to be that little girl. I remember arguments and physical fights my parents had. I remember not knowing if they would still be there when I came home. I remember my half-brother. (And that memory was a god-send. I finally realized why, before I met my husband, I never believed anyone loved me.)

I know that people do the best they can in their circumstances, and that despite their efforts, certain kinds of chaos can be devastating to kids. I know that adults don’t choose to live in a chaotic hell, if they can figure out a better way, so I don’t feel inclined to lay a lot of blame. And, as I said, my parents were loving, and wonderful in many ways. They encouraged me to think, and gave me strength to endure the hard times.

But I’ve been getting blindsided by memories, and feeling scared again. My body feels it.

In the dark, knees crossed
arms wrapped, I’m not here

I’m not here but I’m shaking

The sounds find me hiding

muffled voices through the floor
front door latch
woman’s grief

car door
engine’s cough

patter of tires on wet road

Daddy’s gone, and I’m rocking
(or the house is)

and I’m waiting
in the dark

and I’m waiting

I’d like to know why I can feel this now, like it’s happening, now. It’s almost like the little girl is still here. Like time doesn’t exist. I can feel it. I could never feel it before.

Funny, to this day when something’s bothering me, I will stay awake at night. I’ve called it keeping vigil, but I never connected it to that memory before. Of course, I’ve never really connected myself with that memory either.

Our culture says “I’ve hired you as a teacher, so it’s your job to provide me with a facility (dojo), and to provide me with training.” I’m told that traditional Japanese culture, and our dojo’s culture, says “thank you for being willing to share your wisdom with me. How can I ever repay you?” I like the latter approach. It feels right.

That said, I wasn’t planning to sign up. I didn’t think I could do anything helpful, because of my illness. By now, though, I’m beginning to feel much less weak, much more capable.

So today I climbed the stairs several times, climbed a ladder even more times, and used a heavy drill to screw in drywall screws.

I’m sore, but very happy.

Hey! Now I finally have that athletic soreness. Wonder if that means I’m getting better?

Yesterday, he asked me whether there were any circumstances in which it would be ok to lie. As I thought about it, I found the writings of both Mohatma Gandhi and Marshall Rosenberg coming to mind. Here is some of what Gandhi had to say:

I have been repeating over and over again that he who cannot protect himself or his nearest and dearest or their honour by non-violently facing death may and ought to do so by violently dealing with the oppressor.

…

Self-defence….is the only honourable course where there is unreadiness for self-immolation.

Though violence is not lawful, when it is offered in self-defence or for the defence of the defenceless, it is an act of bravery far better than cowardly submission. The latter befits neither man nor woman. Under violence, there are many stages and varieties of bravery. Every man must judge this for himself. No other person can or has the right.
And Marshall Rosenberg tells us that sometimes the protective use of force is called for, but never punitive use, and that the protective use of force is neither a method of communication nor a way to teach a lesson (or help someone learn). It is a way to prevent harm.

I’m not sure yet if it’s a metaphor, or if lying and force are more literally equivalent. But lying is clearly a way to change someone’s behavior or response to match your agenda, rather than her own. The policeman at my door would presumably prefer to follow her own agenda with accurate information about the situation, rather than basing her choices on a lie. The same is true for the next-door-neighbor who wonders how our homeschooling is going.
What I’ve noticed is that there are situations that might well result in harm to me or my loved ones if I were to tell the truth. In the case of a neighbor, personal questions may result in harsh judgements or gossip. For the police officer, there may be a danger of corruption. Then, of course, there is the famous example of the Nazis at the door, asking if you’ve seen the little Jewish girl.

So the answer I gave my son was that in self-defense (or defense of another), I think it may be ok to lie. “Oh, good,” he told me. He’s so cool. :)

My kids would never imagine that I’d condone any kind of violence against loved ones.

So, obviously, this PSA wasn’t aimed at me. Who was it aimed at, then? The families that beat their kids? If a parent hasn’t taught their kids that a home is a safe, loving place, how is a new lecture from those same parents going to teach them?

The explanation is pretty simple. The PSA is not intended to change anything. It’s just another of the subtle lies we live with. It’s a lullaby, with a hidden message: Don’t worry about how screwed up the world is. All you have to do is listen to PSAs. Everything’s under control.

This interview at webmonkey really sums it up nicely. If you want to read more about her, her blog is at subvert.com.

I wonder if she knows about NVC?

If you’re interested in really getting what’s going on with this war, you should definitely watch it. It’s not some whacked-out conspiracy thing. It’s the real story, with interviews with real, somewhat ordinary government people talking about what our foreign policy is about.

(And as an added bonus, you can see a picture of Rumsfeld having a buddy-buddy chat with Mr. Hussein.)

Today it was a letter addressed (by hand) to me, but with no return address. Inside was a newspaper clipping with a post-it that said “Angela, Check this out! – J”. There was a stamp on the envelope; it couldn’t have come from a business.

But the “clipping” inside was actually fake. It had words on it, and had been printed on newsprint, but didn’t come out of any newspaper. It had been perforated right in the middle of a column of words, to look like J had cut it out (just for me!). There was even an ad for a vacation destination on the back. And the “article” was all about how a local dealership was going to have to rid itself of all used cars in the next three days.

Oh, and cars can be had for $29 down, and $99/month, cash price $4295 or some such. The fine print tells you there are restrictions about creditworthiness and insurability, and that there are additional fees. They also tell you that there are exactly two cars for that price, and they may be gone already.

These letters aren’t as common, maybe, as the ones made to look like government notices, or to look like bills you have to pay when they’re actually trying to get you to sign up for some service. There are lots of different types.

And I’m told it’s not a big deal. Everybody does it. Just throw them away.

But it is a big deal. J had to make sure to write something that would mislead me, and plenty of others, without being literally false. Other people may have been involved. Clerical workers, other salespeople, her children?

Some human being is on the other side of each lie that I receive. And that human being, that spark of the divine fire, has to muffle her sprit, close her heart, and become something other than her authentic self to make something like that work. It’s tragic.

And how many people do that every day? How many people are paid to lie? “You’ll need to register for another year. Will that be Visa or Mastercard?” What does “you’ll need to” really mean? On a sign: “$99.95″–isn’t that just a lie that says “Nah! This won’t cost you a hundred dollars. See?”

Nurses lie to patients, teachers to students, salesmen to people wanting to buy something. Bankers, neighbors, parents, friends. Lies are everywhere.

Maybe they’re “white lies.” Maybe they’re not lies at all, just “misleading.” But how did “misleading” get to sound so innocent? Jewish tradition says that it’s wrong to put a stumbling block in front of a blind person. Leading someone astray — misleading — is surely also wrong. It’s surely something that a person can’t do all the time, habitually, and still find a sane and healthy path to walk. It’s not the road to enlightenment.

Call it karma, or spiritual failure, or whatever you like. It’s tragic, and it’s darkening our souls, breaking our world.

Let’s stop letting these things go unnoticed, uncommented. Let us tell the truth. Let us give up the idea of the white lie in favor of making authentic connections.

Let us speak to the divine nature in one another.