On Having It All

Shame is so popular. Ashamed of having hair, or having no hair; of having too much height, or weight; of certain jobs, or no job; of not being straight, or having no kids, or having kids, and how they behave. Of not being fair enough, strong enough, smart enough, cool enough; of living in the wrong district. Of race, disability, style.

            There’s a deficit of enoughness, it seems. We’re not tall, powerful, healthy or magic enough. Not male enough, even when we’re girls. We never have enough money. We need more space, more attention, more love and more fame. We lack enough more.

            If we should happen to be that ideal, sex specific, family blessed, wellness crowned, truly employed, successful bright and beautiful example to the world about us, we still sleep badly knowing that one trip in the dark, one car crash, one mutating cell or rogue gene stands between us and humankind.

            Jesus said, ‘I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners.’ He noted, ‘They that are whole have no need of the physician’. Then why shame? I wish you this Christmastide enough repentance, healing, and goodwill. There is enough: you can have it all.

On the Margins

The margin is getting crowded these days. So many are marginalised: poor, disabled, sick, homeless, imprisoned; widows, orphans, singles, divorced; gays, and straights who object to gays; religions victimised for their righteousness; various races in various places; even the rich. Many people do not like the rich, more envy them, and they will never know if they have any true friends. Even Jesus sent away the rich young man: his only recourse was to become less rich.

            The default is thought to be health: a trip to the medical rooms shows young, old, and  in-betweens: the default is actually, as Buddha says, suffering. Myriad names for mental illness depict the default as sane lucidity: there are priests, politicians and media magicians who demonstrate the default as opinionated folly.

            With so many marginalised, often marginalising each other, my question is: where’s the page? Jesus had compassion for all the marginalised (including the rich young man, with all his responsibilities; not so the righteous). His favourites were sex workers and tax collectors: go figure.

            Perhaps the page is the Way. Jesus called himself the Way; the Tao Te Ching says the Way is nameless. The page is blank: what do we write there?

On Faith

I emerged from five years in a theological school convinced that faith is something other than assent to the doctrines of the church. Other also than the customs of the church, which have included anti-Semitism, misogyny (witchcraft trials), racism (apartheid), homophobia (hangings) and support for the Biblical system of slavery. All these Greek words covering up the righteousness of readers.

            We’re living through one of the great international migrations of history. Xenophobia:  another Greek word expressing the thought that while one or two of you is all right, in great waves you feel unmanageable and beyond our scope. Note that Greek words distance in the English language. ‘Anti-Semitism’, not Jew-hating; ‘misogyny,’ not woman-hating; ‘homophobia’ not gay-hating; ‘xenophobia’ not ‘foreigner hating.’

            What kind of faith hates so many? I find a definition of faith based on ‘persuasion’: to be convinced intellectually, ideologically, by words. Some words coming out of some churches make me want to walk.

            Another meaning of faith is trust. Trust what is dependable, reliable, comfortable. (‘Hear what comfortable words our Saviour Christ saith.’) Faith, in the ancient world, meant ‘personal loyalty.’ Give loyalty to someone you trust. Who has faith in you? Who can trust us?