Retirement. (No, not that kind.)

Panther Pond, Maine.

I've never forgotten a post I read back in 2007 on Contemplative Scholar's blog:

On Being an Animal

 

July 12, 2007

 

As a human being, I am an animal too. And so are you.

This summer I am feeling moved not to travel much. While my main plan had been to get back into my academic writing, I'm having a really hard time with that. I think I am just profoundly tired. Plus, my support system has been seriously diminished over the past year: from the ending of my music group, to the departure of two people in my life who have been really important mentors and guides.

After my busy year and these important losses, I'm now mostly focused on trying to reestablish a basic discipline of taking good care of myself. No one else can do that for me anyway. More and more I realize that this is a deep and fundamental animal responsibility we each have. It is exactly for ourselves, but not selfish. We are not just our own private property. We matter to others in the world. And so if we don't take good care of ourselves, we can bring considerable grief into others' lives, because they can do little to restore health and well-being if we are not ourselves cooperating.

I have come to realize this in myself, but I also see it from another perspective in my relationships with others. Those who are good at taking care of themselves are happy and healthy and their lives are in balance, which means that they have lots of energy to attend to others as well.

As philosopher Immanuel Kant points out, we have a basic duty to be happy, so that we are not so distracted by our unhappiness that we fail to attend to our other moral duties!

The key marker for my own self care is exercise. Happily, I am running again. This is a very good sign. This year, I will place this as one of my highest priorities. No matter how busy my life gets, I will try to regard this as essential as eating and sleeping and going to Meeting! (Hold me too this, my faithful readers!)

So I've made the radical decision not to worry about how "productive" my summer is. I'm going to live my days as aimlessly as I need to. I'll attend to anything urgent that crosses my desk. But other than that, I'll just do what I feel moved to do from moment to moment. I haven't had a real vacation as such in a long time. I hereby declare the rest of this summer to be the first really extended vacation I have ever in my whole life let myself have.

I feel open and in a data-gathering mode. What gives me life? I want to experience the world in a new way. I want to let the world fill me with healing and renewing energy. I want to pay full attention to everyone I see, but refrain from agreeing to anything that establishes a controlling dynamic in our relationships. I refuse to expect anyone to do anything for me in particular; and I refuse to agree to anything that means that others expect something of me.

(I must emphasize that this is purely temporary. When the academic year begins again, I will have no choice but to enter back into that complex network of relationships dominated by controlling dynamics going in both directions.)

But for now, I just want to be a wild animal, quiet and shy, alert and tuned mostly into the pure present moment. I want to eat and sleep and run in the woods. I want to watch beautiful sunsets and let them work their magic on my soul.

The summer, after all, is beautiful. The sun. The breezes. The freedom to walk straight outside without the fanfare of coats and hats and scarves and gloves and complicated shoes slipping on icy walks. This is the time store up health and hope.

The other things I care about will come to fruition in their own good time. Let me finally honor the wisdom of the structure of the academic year. Let me finally trust in the natural rhythms of life and nature. 

At some point I posted a link to this essay on my own blog, but soon after that, Contemplative Scholar had decided to close public access. The Contemplative Scholar blog remains closed to this day, although the Scholar gave me permission to republish this post here.

(The author said that it's also possible that the blog will be reopened in the future. I'll be sure to let you know if that happens.)

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Maine Botanical Gardens. Water vole, Klamath Falls, Oregon. Panther Pond, Maine.

Maybe you've already guessed, at least in general, why I've found solace in this post at this particular moment, even though my own life cycle isn't academic anymore. For me, the winter serves as something of an equivalent to Contemplative's summer. And yet the coming winter season in the Northern Hemisphere promises even more cruelties among vulnerable people than we witness today. How can we justify ever averting our eyes?

On one of our online Quaker meetings for worship, with our attention focused on Ukraine and the Holy Land, one of our attenders drew our attention to this "Invitation to Sit Together for Peace," with its guided meditation in the Buddhist tradition taught by the late Thich Nhat Hanh. I found points of contact on a communal level with "On Being an Animal."

(Dear anxious members of my Christian family, I'm very willing to discuss what might make you anxious about this meditation, but not here.)

Another impulse to reprint "On Being an Animal" came from a letter I just got from a friend of mine in the UK. She wrote, "... I am due one of my biannual deplugs ... so from Nov 25th to Dec 25th that's it—no news or views on the present day (...history will be permissible)."

There is something in me that resists the idea of unplugging, as if I am somehow letting humanity down if I give up, for a time, my obsessive attention to the deeds and misdeeds of the Powers That Be. How much worse off everyone would be if I withheld my awesome influence for good!

If you sometimes feel the same way, but know down in your bones you really do need a time of retirement, consider some of these thoughts:

Consider that you, too, are an animal. Contemplative Scholar does not advocate inattentiveness, but a different, more creaturely kind of attentiveness. There is no break from reality, only a break from a set of stylized behaviors that we humans esteem much too highly, given that they are all elaborate variations on the same behaviors that all mammals display—data-gathering, marking territory, distinguishing friend from threat. We are wise to be aware of the ways human myths and conceits impact us and our global neighbors, but let's dedicate some time to resting quietly with our Creator, aware of the present moment, before returning to those demanding arenas.

Back in 1990, I made a tour of about thirty communities in southern India that, at the time, were active or potential partners with Right Sharing of World Resources. My first visit was to a non-governmental organization in Chennai. One of the most helpful and liberating pieces of advice that the director gave me was this: "Never believe (or allow people to convince you) that you are indispensable. The communities were there before you ever showed up and will be there after you leave."

(More about this conversation here.)

The kind of retirement I see in "On Being an Animal" is very different from simply quitting in disgust or becoming cynical. However, if you feel those temptations to quit altogether, a period of retirement from the deluge of difficult news may be just what's needed. Everything we have to offer is rooted, not in our own undoubted competence and cleverness, nor in our righteous anger (though it's sometimes exactly right!), but in the everlasting and universal love of God.

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But the Lord did stay my desires upon himself from whom my help came, and my care was cast upon him alone. Therefore, all wait patiently upon the Lord, whatsoever condition you be in wait in the grace and truth that comes by Jesus; for if ye so do, there is a promise to you, and the Lord God will fulfil it in you. And blessed are all they indeed that do hunger and thirst after righteousness; they shall be satisfied with it. I have found it so, praised be the Lord who filleth with it, and satisfies the desires of the hungry soul. O let the house of the spiritual Israel to say, 'His mercy endureth for ever.' It is the great love of God to make a wilderness of that which is pleasant to the outward eye and fleshly mind; and to make a fruitful field of a barren wilderness.

— George Fox (Journal, Nickalls ed., pages 12-13), 1647.

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I'm still collecting responses to my survey: Which term do you prefer, Friends or Quakers?

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A letter from Ramallah Friends School students to the U.S. Congress, posted by the Friends Committee on National Legislation. Related note: the three young Palestinian men shot in Vermont last Saturday, Hisham Awartani, Kinnan Abdalhamid, and Tahseen Ahmed, were all graduates of the Ramallah Friends School. 

An Orthodox priest writes to Christians in Russia who are not in unity with Orthodox officialdom on the war in Ukraine. (English. Russian.)

And how other Russians learned to stop worrying about the war.

The Russian Supreme Court bans the "international LGBT social movement," ruling it "extremist." More coverage from Meduza. Friday update from Meduza.

One more link, in a very different direction... May we welcome Jesus as Mary did. Beth Felker Jones on the miracle of consent.

Most of these links are wildly inconsistent with observing a period of "retirement." Let's see if I do better next time!

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Mark Stutso's wonderful vocals, Gino Matteo on guitar, and Jason Ricci on harp: "It's My Own Fault."

The socialists are coming!!

I'm not much for labeling people,
but I have to make a living somehow. Source.

Among my friends and relatives, the supporters of Donald Trump's re-election as U.S. president have two top priorities.

Priority one is their opposition to abortion. I wrote last year about my own conflicted views on abortion (and added some thoughts more recently), but those who explain their support of Trump by saying "I’m voting for every unborn soul the Democrats want to murder," are probably not available for the conversations I advocated there.

Right now, in close second place, Trump supporters oppose the inevitable socialist apocalypse that would follow a Democratic victory in November. "Don't let the Socialist Democrats turn the USA into Venezuela," warns one popular graphic. Once again, the "socialist" label is being pressed into service, not in the service of a fair discussion, but as an epithet.

To be effective, this scare tactic requires us not to look too closely at what's behind that "socialist" label. We must believe that the democratic socialism of people like Bernie Sanders and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is the same as the forms of socialism practiced in Venezuela and Cuba, for example, and that the factors that shaped those case studies would be present in the USA as well.

I can see why it would be tempting to encourage this confusion. Classic socialism -- government control of most or all markets for goods and services -- has a disastrous historical record. In theory, such a system would ensure that everyone gets their basic needs met, but the level of social control required to maintain these systems practically guarantees a descent into tyranny. For a preview of this tendency, look at the history of socialist and communist organizations. Only Protestant Christians rival them for the ability to quarrel and divide on doctrinal issues. If we just take the scare tactics at face value and assume that Ocasio-Cortez and Sanders are hell-bent on creating that sort of system, we can be excused for fearing the consequences.

(For a fictional attempt at a spiritual x-ray of late-stage Soviet socialism, read Francis Spufford's novel Red Plenty, which I summarized here as "the most unusual book I've ever read about the Soviet Union.")

Democratic socialism shares the same major goal as classic socialism: eliminating the social and economic causes of suffering. Eliminating preventable suffering is also a major ethical priority of Christianity, which is probably why so many socialist thinkers have been Christians. For example, Canada's democratic socialist political party, the New Democratic Party, included Christian politicians such as J.S. Woodsworth and Stanley Knowles among its formative leaders. The Roman Catholic Church's social teachings helped form the modern labor movement in many countries. Prominent Christian socialists in the USA's history include Norman Thomas, Dorothy Day, A.J. Muste, Kirby Page, and Mother Jones. This history, if better known, might go a long way to correcting the impressions left by the celebrity Christians of the far right.

Democratic socialism recognizes that there is no way to impose this laudable goal of eliminating preventable suffering from the top down. Coercive centralized planning, no matter how elegantly organized or diligently practiced (see Red Plenty), involves a monopoly on power, and we humans have a terrible record with unchecked power. Democratic socialists rely on two major devices to keep power in check -- a system of political checks and balances, and a market economy. Strangely enough, these are the same mechanisms favored by conservatives! 

The mission of democratic socialists is simple and twofold:

First, they advocate and evangelize for their central vision: a good society ensures fair access to the community's resources so that nobody suffers needlessly.

Second, they compete in the political marketplace of ideas and policies, engaging with colleagues and opponents to find the right balance between two competing goods: building up enough resources for the community's social goals, while providing for reasonable incentives for the private marketplace to thrive and the hybrids (public utilities and other public/private joint ventures) to reward investors.

This is where conflicts often arise: advocates for the most generous social policies can collide with those who want to maximize entrepreneurial and investor incentives. The more we challenge each other to keep our shared values of social justice at the center, the more fruitful (my optimistic self says) these conflicts can be, and the more we can expose the hidden motives of greed and class interest that are in direct conflict with everyone (progressive and conservative alike) whose goal is fair access to resources and the elimination of needless suffering.

Democratic socialists propose solutions that analyze the division of labor between government management and the free market, and adjust that division in favor of our most vulnerable people. For all activities that are best regulated by the free market -- the vast majority of industries and services -- there may be no role for government beyond the preservation of public safety and mechanisms for resolving disputes. But for those activities that are basic to everyone's health and safety, such as police and fire services, roads, every-address postal service, guaranteed access to education, and (I would argue) health care, accountable government management makes sense. The free market simply does not know how to weigh private incentives and the public good in such large-scale concerns, though many will pretend (for their private benefit) that any alternative to the market is (scary music) socialism!

Improving this division of labor -- making better choices between what the free market does well, and what an elected government can accomplish -- is the actual conversation proposed by actual democratic socialists. Every democratic country in the world has already arrived at some such division of labor, including the USA, although nobody has done a perfect job. How can we in the USA do a better job together to "promote the General Welfare" and eliminate needless suffering? And ... really, does this urgent conversation sound so apocalyptic?

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In thinking about this theme, I found a couple of interesting articles.

On Wikipedia, "Socialism for the rich and capitalism for the poor."

And on Norway as a case study of democratic socialism, "Scandinavian Socialism: The 'Truth' of the Nordic Model."

On this site you can find one of Truman's more famous pieces of rhetoric, on the use of the word "socialism" by politicians on the Republican side. Here he is in Syracuse, New York, on October 10, 1952: 

Socialism is a scare word they have hurled at every advance the people have made in the last 20 years.

Socialism is what they called public power. 

Socialism is what they called social security.  

Socialism is what they called farm price supports. 

Socialism is what they called bank deposit insurance. 

Socialism is what they called the growth of free and independent labor organizations.

Socialism is their name for almost anything that helps all the people.

More labels: evangelical, conservative, radical.

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To call Jesus a socialist might be a suspicious use of religious rhetoric for political gain, but let's look with pure motives at how Wess Daniels describes the biblical evidence of the Savior's priorities: Jesus against empire.

Church during "lockdown" and a "hiddenness of life and worship...."

A sad anniversary: Samantha Smith and the Soviet Union.

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UPDATE on the Ramallah Friends Schools:

A couple of months ago, I wrote about the pandemic-era situations faced by several Friends schools. I've also been wondering how Ramallah Friends School in Palestine has been doing. Yesterday I got an update from Adrian Moody, director of the School:

We are currently preparing for a return to school on the 7th September. Cases in the Westbank are going up around 600 per day. We know if we get a case here at school then we will have to close again so things are really uncertain. We have to prepare whilst the goal posts are constantly moving.

The pandemic has really hit school finances. Shop owners were severely hit with all the closures but civil servants were also hit because salaries were cut up to 60%, A lot of our parents are struggling to pay their fees and have to pay for the last academic year as well as prepare for the new academic year. We do what we can to help and we have opened up applications for financial aid and fortunately were able to raise some emergency funds through donors to help our most affected parents.

The financial situation on the Westbank has been dire for some time and the pandemic has just made it incredibly difficult. We are in for a tough year.

To make a contribution to Ramallah Friends School and their resources for financial aid, visit the School's online donation page. To participate in Friends United Meeting's support for the School, visit FUM's donation page. 

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Enjoy Sue Foley breaking down the blues guitar for us:

Independence Day shorts

I've been waiting eagerly for news from my friend in Hebron, a medical student whose senior-year finals were scheduled for June. Today I heard that the last two exams are still on hold because of the pandemic-related shutdown of the West Bank. Palestine counts over 2500 active cases of COVID-19, half of them in Hebron. I wish him and his fellow students all the very best as they face the uncertainties of these times. Their country -- and the world -- needs them.

The uncertainties they face include the looming prospect of Israel's annexation of nearly the whole Jordan Valley. Yousef Munayyer suggests that the unpopularity of this move among American voters may be the factor (and not any push-back from within Israel) that is just now slowing down this annexation plan.

Source.  

I've written recently about the effect of the pandemic on Friends schools in Richmond, Indiana, USA, and Monteverde, Costa Rica. What about Quaker education in Palestine? The Olive Press, the Ramallah Friends School's monthly newsletter, vividly describes some of those recent impacts. However, it doesn't go into financial details.

Even before the pandemic, Palestine's economy was in rough shape, which affects families' ability to pay tuition in "normal" times. I hope to hear more from the school and from Friends United Meeting about today's realities -- and particularly what the consequences might be for the school's ability to provide financial aid for lowest-income students.

Related: My thank-you to Ramallah Friends Meeting, written toward the end of my time with Christian Peacemakers in Hebron.

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Yesterday was the final day of voting in Russia's national referendum on a series of amendments to the Russian constitution, and on a controversial provision that sets president Vladimir Putin's term count back to zero. This in effect nullifies the constitution's limit of two terms in the presidency, making Putin eligible to run for election again in 2024 and (if he wins) again in 2030 or later. (The word "consecutive" is being removed from the term limit.) The proposals were approved by a vote of 78% yes, 21% no.

Interestingly, the national campaign on behalf of the constitutional amendments was relatively quiet about the term nullification provision, although Putin himself toward the end of the campaign gave television network Rossiya 1 his rationale for resetting the counter: "I can tell you from my own experience that, in about two years, instead of the regular rhythm of work on many levels of government, you'd have eyes shifting around hunting for possible successors. It’s imperative to keep working, not looking for successors." I'm sure authoritarians around the world will be using this elegant argument for making themselves utterly irreplaceable. "Eyes shifting around" is certainly a novel way to describe normal politics!

In light of the approval of these amendments, is it now fair for us to apply the label "authoritarian" to Russia without being accused of russophobia? Russian political scientist Grigory Golosov gives his view of the situation.

Today Putin struck what might arguably be a conciliatory note in addressing the 21% of the population that didn't support the constitutional changes. Quoting gazeta.ru,

"We still have many unresolved issues. It's true. People often encounter injustice, callousness, indifference. Many people's lives are still very hard and challenging," Putin said.

The head of state noted that the authorities still have many shortcomings.

"It often seems to those of us in national leadership that we are doing everything possible, but, no, life indicates otherwise. Life shows that we often underperform," Putin stated.

The BBC summarizes the main amendments here. And here's a Russian-language summary.

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What about the USA and our own era of underperformance, now that we're on the eve of our Independence Day weekend? I can't remember a time that the USA's customary exceptionalism was under such scrutiny, at least among white citizens, as it is right now.

(It's instructive to remember Michelle Obama's controversial comment in 2008 about being proud of the U.S. "for the first time" and Cindy McCain's snarky rejoinder.)

During the current swirl of emotions around patriotism, historical truth, and Confederate monuments, here are two documents that provide a bracing reality check. The first is Frederick Douglass's Independence Day address of 1852 to an audience in Rochester, New York. This passage stands out to me as a striking corrective to passive patriotism and hero-worship:

Sydney Smith tells us that men seldom eulogize the wisdom and virtues of their fathers, but to excuse some folly or wickedness of their own. This truth is not a doubtful one. There are illustrations of it near and remote, ancient and modern. It was fashionable, hundreds of years ago, for the children of Jacob to boast, we have "Abraham to our father," when they had long lost Abraham’s faith and spirit. That people contented themselves under the shadow of Abraham’s great name, while they repudiated the deeds which made his name great. Need I remind you that a similar thing is being done all over this country to-day? Need I tell you that the Jews are not the only people who built the tombs of the prophets, and garnished the sepulchres of the righteous? Washington could not die till he had broken the chains of his slaves. Yet his monument is built up by the price of human blood, and the traders in the bodies and souls of men, shout —"We have Washington to our father."—Alas! that it should be so; yet so it is.

The following passages cut very differently, but with a lethal precision. They define a core interest of the Confederacy, by which interest Frederick Douglass should still have been in chains, and for which those who once owned him were willing to betray their country:

Articles of the Confederate Constitution, by which "negro slavery" was intended to be preserved in perpetuity and through all future expansions:

Art I sect 9: (4) No bill of attainder, ex post facto law, or law denying or impairing the right of property in negro slaves shall be passed.

Art IV sect 2:(1) The citizens of each State shall be entitled to all the privileges and immunities of citizens in the several States; and shall have the right of transit and sojourn in any State of this Confederacy, with their slaves and other property; and the right of property in said slaves shall not be thereby impaired.

Art IV sect 3: (3) The Confederate States may acquire new territory; and Congress shall have power to legislate and provide governments for the inhabitants of all territory belonging to the Confederate States, lying without the limits of the several Sates [sic]; and may permit them, at such times, and in such manner as it may by law provide, to form States to be admitted into the Confederacy. In all such territory the institution of negro slavery, as it now exists in the Confederate States, shall be recognized and protected by Congress and by the Territorial government; and the inhabitants of the several Confederate States and Territories shall have the right to take to such Territory any slaves lawfully held by them in any of the States or Territories of the Confederate States.

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24-7 Prayer: George Floyd and the tipping point of a nation.

Catherine Rampell helps us prepare for a truth-based Fourth of July: she suggests the U.S. is falling behind its global peers. Are you starting to notice?

As you seek to be faithful in this time, do you find yourself out of step with your family, your friends, and your church? Maybe Ron Sider, editor of The Spiritual Danger of Donald Trump: 30 Evangelical Christians on Justice, Truth and Moral Integrity, can help. Here's a list of his upcoming online seminars for general audiences and for pastors. (I plan to review this book in a later post.)

What are the geopolitical ramifications of SpaceX's Starlink space-based Internet delivery project?

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Helen Ibe's guitar solo of "A Change Is Gonna Come" (Sam Cooke).

Giving thanks for small things

Often I wake up with our two adopted kittens arranged on each side of me. But as soon as I stand up, they like to climb up my clothes until they reach my shoulders, at which point they put their little noses on my earlobes, or else they begin batting at each other around my neck.

(What kittens? Look here, scroll down....)

I suppose there's absolutely nothing new about kittens being adorable. It's not even original to derive some life lessons from their cute behavior. Still, I'm going to try to express a lesson they've taught me. What follows is the substance of what I said at Ramallah Friends Meeting last Sunday.

It's the kitties' habit of climbing up the Johan tower that started this chain of thoughts. I'm not sure why they do it; there's no food when they reach the top. They just seem to like being up there. The fact that it's a regular routine might be part of what comforts or pleases them.

Of course I eventually have to sit down, and then they're content to sit on my lap, and after a bit more batting each other they settle down for naps.

I'm now 66 years old, and I've had the good fortune of doing and learning many interesting things. But in God's scale, maybe I'm no more than just a little kitten. Daily I make my climb up the prayer mountain to enjoy God's company. To be honest, I also sometimes find myself trying to bat away the distractions that try to get their claws in me.

I do a lot of climbing every day. Physically, I have to climb up the steep path to the kindergarten housed in the Ibrahimi Mosque complex. The prayer path is also sometimes steep. (Last night I spent most of the night at a home demolition, a topic I'll return to in another post, but you can imagine how that might lead to some spiritual questions.) But when the outward prayer and reading time is over, I need to remain in that place. I need to center down still further and spend a few minutes in God's lap.

Last Sunday I realized, sitting quietly in the Ramallah Friends Meeting, that this little group of Quakers has  represented a special place for me to get away and be with God in the company of others, in accordance with a regular routine. It's a safe place for me to be nothing more than a little kitten, resting in the presence of the Creator. I am not nearly as cute as our baby cats, but Friends seem to welcome me anyway. And after we greet each other in the entryway, we are ready to experience together that ancient rhythm: the prayer path, steep as that path may seem after some of what we experience in a typical week, but also the time of total rest as we remember God's promises together.

Thank you, Ramallah Friends, for representing Jesus' promise of rest -- maybe something like the lap of God that I can climb into every week. And thank you, kittens, for your trust and affection and sheer playfulness, and for deepening my perspective on life with God.

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More reactions to last week's announcement by the U.S. secretary of state on settlements and international law: Aaron David Miller and Daniel Kurtzer; Kairos Palestine. (On Kurtzer and Miller, Helena Cobban has some tart words to say.)

David Swartz on how cultural divisions within evangelicalism help explain the dramatic differences in attitudes toward Trump.

How should we remember John Winthrop and the Puritans?

Amazing images of Mars from the Curiosity rover. (Video.)

Foreign agents in Russia: Selective enforcement is one thing, but legislation that encourages selective enforcement is something new.

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Magic Slim ... I miss him.

Grace and mercy

The Last Judgment (Rublev); Jesus' second coming, and the scroll is partly unrolled... Dormition Cathedral at Vladimir.

The Last Judgment, view of left and right sides. Sources--top; bottom.

St. Demetrius Cathedral

Detail from St. Demetrius Cathedral

St. Demetrius Cathedral

Dormition Cathedral

I bought two Anthony Bloom books in Dormition Cathedral: Awakening to New Life: Conversations on Mark's Gospel (left) and Spiritual Life.

On the first full day of our New Year's retreat in Vladimir, we went to the St. Demetrius Cathedral; on the second day we went to the other cathedral about a hundred meters away, the Dormition Cathedral, which had been built about three decades earlier.

The Demetrius Cathedral is, aside from a few major holiday events, maintained as a museum. The external surfaces are decorated with a fantastic riot of carvings of saints and animals; while there's been a lot of preservation and restoration of the building, most of the reliefs are still original. The inside, however, is starkly simple and is gloriously devoid of state-church grandiosity. It is simply and wonderfully a place to pray. I think we could have stayed there for hours. I slipped into a zone of timelessness very similar to the sense I had visiting the Old Aker Church in Oslo, whose interior (even older, though thoroughly restored after several disasters) is almost equally stark.

The Dormition Cathedral is very different, having served for several centuries as one of the central churches of medieval Russian Christianity, and one of the repositories of graves and relics of rulers and saints. The Russian Orthodox Church shares this building with the government; during the day, the state museum aspect is paramount (and you pay to get in), but in the evening, the building's liturgical function takes over.

After the deep impression made by the St. Demetrius church the previous day, I thought that the elaborate, cavernous Dormition Cathedral might be a letdown. That was not to be. It all started when I began browsing through the books at the cathedral's sales tables near the entrance. I chose books by Anthony Bloom; they are wonderful devotional reading and make good gifts, too. A woman about our age, and similarly wrapped in winter garb, noticed me choosing the books. We fell into a conversation about the differences between Russian Orthodox and Protestant believers, and what we have in common. She told me about her American Pentecostal acquaintance and their promise to pray for each other.

I asked her whether she was familiar with this cathedral -- or was this, as with us, her first visit? "Am I familiar? I work here!" she smiled. "Let me put my coat away, and I will show you something." For the next hour, she gave us a wonderful exclusive tour of the cathedral from one end to the other, literally -- from the grave of Gleb Bogoliubsky to the wall dedicated to the wife and family of Yuri II of Vladimir, all victims of the invasion of Batu Khan's forces in 1237-38. Every step of our tour took us past the signs and scars of a bloody epoch.

My favorite part of the tour was the vault and archway with Andrei Rublev's fresco of the Last Judgment. Our new friend pointed out details that I would never have noticed on my own. The running theme of her descriptions and interpretations were grace and mercy.

"Look at Christ descending toward his throne," she said. "Look how his arms are open to receive us. He doesn't push anyone away. It's our decision to accept his invitation or not." Furthermore, "See how the scroll is being opened by the angels at the top of the fresco. It's not open all the way. History doesn't trap us without hope -- it doesn't close without us. Even at the end we can respond." She contrasted this Last Judgment with Michelangelo's: "There you see an apocalyptic finality that isn't in Rublev."

"Look at the bishops, saints, and evangelists," she continued, pointing at the lower panels on either side of the arch. "They're almost at our level. They are people, just like us, and their faces show different levels of faith and uncertainty. There's Paul, urging them forward. Here we stand among them, experiencing the coming of Christ along with them. That's what we mean by 'church'."

There was more. "See those women to the left of the left-hand panel? We call them the 'righteous wives.' Some of them are in fancy dress, others in ordinary clothes." (In the photo above, you see a bit of that section in the bottom left corner.) "See how confidently they look at Christ. They live in certainty that they will be welcomed."

In the warmth of our guide's spontaneous offer to show us her beloved cathedral, I felt a confirmation of her gracious interpretation of the frescoes. Thanks to her lively spirit, the six centuries separating Rublev's work from our visit simply collapsed, and his art ministered directly to us.

"There's NO happiness in life!" "There IS!" "There IS!"
"There IS, there IS!" Aleksei Merinov, Moskovskii
Komsomolets, via vk.com.

In those moments ("That's what we mean by 'church'") and in that specific part of the cathedral, I felt I was experiencing the warm heart of the Orthodox heritage. It was a complex joy, because I felt surrounded by evidence of the spiritual paradox that is Russia: an ancient Christian faith that preaches mercy and grace, simplicity and avoidance of judgment, contrasting with centuries of relentless violence, conspiracy, invasion, aggression, suspicion, and mass-scale cruelty. Furthermore, that impulse to cruelty sometimes even tries to cover itself with the terms and symbols of Christian faith.

To practice a spiritual discipline of grace and mercy while remaining aware of the violence and lies that the principalities and powers practice (in league with our own inner fears and addictions) is not just a peculiarly Russian imperative. I'm sure it applies equally to my own country, and as we enter the strange year 2017, I'm sure its importance is only growing. I'm sure I'll be returning to this theme in future blog posts, if only for my own sake.

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Source: LinkedIn  

Khalil Mahshi was appointed director of the Ramallah Friends Schools in 1986, shortly after my first period of work for Friends United Meeting. About a year after I became general secretary of FUM in 1993, he left his position at the Friends Schools, to my regret. Even so, he was very willing to help me understand the mission and context of the schools when I made my first visit there in 1994. He and his wife Suheir gave freely of their time and hospitality as I tried to make sense of the very complex situation we faced in our stewardship of the schools.

After leaving the schools, he went on to play an important role in the development of Palestine's ministry of education, and later worked for UNESCO in Paris, directing their International Institute for Educational Planning. I was very sad to hear that he died of cancer on January 1, in Amman. I'm very grateful for his leadership of our Friends schools in those years, and for his encouragement to me and my colleagues at FUM.

The memorial page at the IIEP Web site includes an e-mail address for sending condolences.

The Ramallah Friends Schools site also has a memorial page and a link to an invitation to post your photos and memories of Khalil on Facebook.

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Terry Mattingly on Hollywood's rediscovery of God as reported by the New York Times.

Tom Engelhardt, someone I consider an ally in resisting the principalities and powers, on the real face of Washington (and America).

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Remembering Junior Wells as I listen to this song.

Christmas greetings from Ramallah

Bethlehem on Christmas eve, source.

Judy and I are grateful to be with friends and educational colleagues in Ramallah for Christmas. Ramallah is a place I've missed very much since my Friends United Meeting years. It's a joy to celebrate Christmas here, but we plan to be back home before December 31. It has become impossible to imagine celebrating the arrival of the New Year anywhere but in Russia!

We hope that you have a chance to rest in the reality of the Birth of the Prince of Peace! ... and in spiritual preparation for the New Year 2016. Thank you for your companionship!

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Along with many others, I've been mystified by the decision of Digital Cinema Media not to accept a brief video advertisement by the Church of England on the Lord's prayer in their movie theaters. (The censors had passed the video, but the theater network balked, citing their policy against political and religious content.) When I first heard this story, I couldn't believe the apparent implicit calculation that allows capitalism to exploit Christmas for commercial gain but prohibits mention of anything about the actual source of this profitable festival. On the other hand, I'm not fond of pious outrage about the "war on Christmas" when the outrage is really just a political dog-whistle. (See more on outrage, below.)

Concerning the British controversy, I was glad to see this statement by Britain's Equality and Human Rights Commission, which precisely (if politely) takes aim at the hypocrisy of commercializing Christmas but muffling its spiritual core.

Outrage is all the rage. Michael Minor on outrage inflation (my term).

Should we worry about Christianity in the Middle East? Well, yes, but Jeremy Moodey provides some perspective.

Interpreting American evangelicalism: a reading list from George Marsden.

Does the Kremlin murder journalists? Actually, probably not. So, why the paranoia?

This item from Open Culture brought back wonderful memories of watching Bob Ross and The Joy of Painting with our young children and then meeting him in person during a public television event in Muncie, Indiana, something like twenty years ago.

Blues and the birth of the Savior: Mary's perspective.

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... and from that last item above, "Bound for Glory":

Uncertainty (again)

"Uncertainty," sings Isaac Slade, "is killing me." (The Fray, "Uncertainty.") And, not for the first time, uncertainty rates a mention in this blog simply because of the times we're living in. Will the Gaza truce hold and some semblance of recovery begin? What will happen with the Russian aid caravan to eastern Ukraine? (And what about the apparent Russian military convoy also spotted entering Ukraine?) Will truth prevail in Ferguson, Missouri? What will happen to Iraq's minorities? Can local quarantines finally stop the ravages of the Ebola virus?

All this goes on while Judy and I are in a retreat center in Fresno, California, where neither the floods to the west nor the forest fires to the north are a threat. (However, a long-standing drought makes water supplies uncertain.) To be honest, I'm very grateful for this respite from the tensions and information wars of our recent past. But I also feel frustratingly far from being able to keep company with our more directly affected friends and neighbors.

Source.  

For now, I've decided not to search for an artificial certainty to proclaim, in the midst of all this global instability. If I feel any certainty at all, this doesn't feel like a time for a glib display of it. It feels like a time to hold this uncertainty in the light, to walk with uncertain people, to pray through the uncertainty, to honor the anxious questions we see in people's faces, and to remember the power of silence. Maybe for now that's as good a way as I have of sharing the Cross.

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Are you by any chance in Sacramento, California, this weekend? Judy and I will be visiting Friends Community Church Sacramento on Sunday. A week later we'll be visiting Berkeley Friends Church.

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Colin Chapman tries "to make sense of Gaza."

A letter from Jean Zaru of Ramallah Friends Meeting.

What Michael Brown's death and the ensuing protests look like in Russia.

"When Black Victims Become Trending Hashtags."

"Taking a break from work is a powerful time of refraining from power."

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Alabama Shakes with Steve Cropper, "Born Under a Bad Sign."

Pamela J. Olson: "How was I supposed to think about a world...

... where the life of a Palestinian was utterly disposable?" -- Fast Times in Palestine: A Love Affair with a Homeless Homeland.

You probably heard about this book long before I did, but just in case it's new to you, please, please read it.

I've spent twenty of the last 24 hours in airports and on airplanes, and during many of those hours I had the bittersweet pleasure of Pamela J. Olson's company in the form of this book. All of my own visits to Israel and the West Bank added up, maybe, to six weeks, whereas she spent two years there. Still, I had enough experiences while in and around Ramallah (and also seven years of participating in the administration of the Ramallah Friends Schools through my job at Friends United Meeting) to be able to look you in the eye and promise you that, in describing life in Palestine, she is not exaggerating. It's that good--the extraordinary hospitality, the amazing food, the humor and affection and perseverance, the sudden unveiling of rolling vistas that seem far bigger than should be possible in such a tiny land). It's that bad--Olson covers perfectly the soul-crushing progression of the occupation/colonization's daily disasters, tragedies, and indignities, each one inviting you to think, "I didn't think it could get any worse, but I was wrong."

The first time Pamela Olson went to Middle East she was more or less a tourist, traveling and exploring in a sort of Brownian motion, bounced forward in ever-widening circles through her capacity to find friends (and meals and a bit of foam mattress to sleep on) just about everywhere she set foot. And it's this chain of relationships that raises this book far above more analytical approaches to the intractable conflicts of the region. Not that she's incapable of analysis; she provides thoughtful commentary in the book and related resources on her Web site, but she doesn't let this commentary gum up her perpetual-motion personality.

The relationships driving the dialogue and emotional growth of this book are not just with the Palestinian activists with whom she might feel political affinity. International NGO workers, and Jewish allies also occupy her stage, but so do the parents and grandparents of these activists, the little children in their communities, the farmers, the village mayors, and--over and over again--the ancient and dignified olive trees. She finally convinces her own parents to visit her, and so we get a capsule-sized version of her own joys and tears as they follow her around.

Olson's episodic and energetic approach allows the reader to share her experiences with pacing and randomness of real life, both its high points and its low points. There are plenty of funny moments, heartwarming encounters, and strange insights. For example, I remember a lively visit to a Christian-owned restaurant and night club during a Muslim holiday period, so I know exactly how Olson feels when she says, "I wished I could explain how funny it was, coming from the Bible Belt of America, to be in a country where Christians are considered the licentious ones."

But, inevitably, she can't help but describe Palestinians' disproportionate death toll in the clashes with Israel--not just the "collateral damage" of large-scale military operations, but also sniper fire from settlers, and medical treatment fatally delayed at a checkpoint. Equally horrifying are the petty (and sometimes not so petty) acts of gratuitous violence and humiliation that blight the lives of young Palestinians. The apartheid represented by the Wall, the checkpoints, the special license plates, destruction of olive trees, and other "security" arrangements gradually reveal their true purpose: In the minds of some politicians and their supporters, these policies are part of deliberate plans to squeeze the Palestinians out of their remaining land.

If security were honestly the sole priority that some Israeli leaders claim, and government policies and actions were truly organized around this specific priority, there would be no necessity to treat a whole people with such systematic and searing contempt. Good police work doesn't require bullying innocent people and taking their land and water and limiting their freedom to isolated reservations that can be invaded or bombed at any time--and any country that respects the impartial rule of law knows this. These daily humiliations witnessed by Olson, by me, and by so many others--financed in part by U.S. taxpayers' money--could end the moment when a significant number of people stop living in complacent ignorance, or pretending they don't see and hear, and begin to require accountability of the Israeli leaders--and, for that matter, the Palestinian leaders as well. This book is important because it doesn't simply wheel out the good old creaky machine of polarized vituperation; instead, we see a young woman simply trying to make sense of what she sees around her, and asking questions. They're the questions we should be asking, too.

And while we're asking those questions together, we can also enjoy Olson's delightful and generous character sketches, her passionate arguments against cynicism, and her long list of recommended Ramallah restaurants and coffeehouses. While defending life, Olson doesn't forget to live.

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I came back home to Elektrostal this evening. I could hear the cats distress calls through the door. As I opened it, I thought I heard someone taking a shower. It's not implausible; three friends have keys to our apartment, and 'tis the season for hot water outages. But as I walked in, I was soon ankle-deep in water. A hose had broken in the toilet room and water was everywhere, even blocking the cats' paths to their food. I rushed to turn off the cold water and moved the cats' essential services to higher ground, and then spent much of the next six hours trying to mop up the floor and repair the leak. (The latter without success.) At last I've experienced one of the legendary disasters of the Russian renter. But we live on the first floor, so our disaster doesn't have to be someone else's as well.

To make matters worse, as I looked for dry socks in my suitcase, I found that a container of molasses had leaked all over my clothing--at the very moment when water for running the washing machine was unavailable! How could this have happened?--I had seen Judy's thorough packing job for this gift, but then all became clear as I looked closer at the soggy mess and saw "Transportation Safety Administration" tape all over the container, along with a note stating that my luggage had been selected for inspection.

I was tempted to post photos, but it wouldn't be terribly edifying. Instead, just imagine cats sending out distress calls.

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"A Reluctant Millenial on the State of Church."

"The Surprising Countries Most Missionaries Come From and Go To."

Martin E. Marty on the late Robert Bellah.

Sarah Ruden examines Malcolm Gladwell's claim to fame and finds it wanting.

In case you were wondering whether Russian politics have become boring now that Edward Snowden is no longer at the airport.

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Blues from Spain...


Mama Paula Blues Band.What You Gonna Do from Jason Limb on Vimeo.

Genius of the cello

Scenes from the BBC documentary Rostropovich: Genius of the Cello "Of course we know our father's voice." Re-experiencing the Shostakovich cello concerto premiere. Shostakovich and Rostropovich: "They were chalk and cheese, but their relationship was surprisingly close." "But because we suffer...." "He would kiss anything he could kiss." Xavier Phillips on Rostropovich's ideal endless bow.

I was always vaguely aware of the cello, thanks to Pablo Casals and his brief appearance in the film Windjammer, which may have been the first movie I ever saw. But I'm afraid that the cello never captured my childhood attention the way the violin and piano did. It just seemed to be a sort of filler, a color instrument between the violin and the bass.

That all changed for me in December 1985. Judy and I made our first visit to Norway together that month, thanks to a package tour deal: $499 round trip to Oslo including six nights in a hotel. With Luke (less than two years old) paying 10% fare, we could make the whole trip for under $1200 if we didn't eat too much. When we told my cousin Johan Fredrik Heyerdahl the dates of our trip, he got tickets for us to a concert by Mstislav Rostropovich at the Oslo Concert Hall. "Oh, well," I thought, "Johan Fredrik must have a good reason to invite us."

It was a solo concert. My diary for 1985 is locked away in Oregon, and I can't remember the program details, but I vividly remember that lone figure in the middle of the huge stage, filling the enormous hall with string-voices of such amazing depth and range and beauty. And I wasn't alone--all around us were people clearly sharing this same experience--tears and endless delight.

So when Daphne Sanders, the clerk of Friends House Moscow's board, told me that the BBC had recently broadcast a documentary film about Mstislav Rostropovich, I was determined to find this film. We've used several other BBC films with our classes here in Elektrostal; one of my favorite examples is the three-program series The Art of Russia. Part of the fun of using these materials is the advance planning: careful viewing of each segment, studying transcripts and subtitles, identifying the specific points of English usage illustrated by each resource, and developing discussion questions  for our students.

Rostropovich: Genius of the Cello richly rewarded these efforts. Director/interviewer John Bridcut packs these ninety minutes with a beautifully-edited abundance of testimonies to his subject's love of life, friendship, music, expressed with a range of standard and nonstandard English, starting with Rostropovich's own cheeky self as he addresses the camera directly: 

Our life not so easy. Cello heavy instrument, and our travels, especially with aircraft, give to us many many difficulties. That's why we suffer more than violin player or flute player. But because we suffer, we is beautiful.

This same piece of film, both hilarious and achingly sentimental, provides a closing bracket toward the end of the documentary as well. In between, we hear many times from Rostropovich himself, from his students, his wife and daughters, other musicians, and via archival footage, from his dear friends Prokofiev, Shostakovich, and Britten. We get an extraordinary glimpse of the nature of his friendship with Dmitri Shostakovich (two men whose personalities were as different as "chalk and cheese" in Bridcut's words) when Rostropovich himself describes how Shostakovich asked him to come over and sit with him for a while, instructing him: "Now, Slava, not speaking. Just sit down." An hour and a half later Shostakovich brings this silent time to an end. (Bear in mind that for this cellist of elemental energy, two minutes of silence feels like "a half life.") Shostakovich says to his friend, "Slava, thank you very much. That's now much easier coming life for me. Thank you, bye bye."

We get a close, detailed look at what happened on August 21, 1968, when Rostropovich and the USSR State Symphony Orchestra were scheduled to play Dvorak's cello concerto in London--at the very moment of Brezhnev's intervention to snuff out the Prague Spring. Ticket holders asked themselves, "Should we go?" Concert promoters asked, "Should the concert go on?" The event was threatened by demonstrations outside and inside the hall (and Galina Vishnevskaya, Mstislav's wife, describes hiding in her concert box)--but the concert did go on. Rostropovich played in tears, and his cello became the voice of a nation's conscience.

Watching these raw ninety minutes with my students took me to the very edge of what I could endure in emotional intensity. I think at one point I croaked out, "Now maybe you can understand why I'm here."

Rostropovich: Genius of the Cello HQ from Vaughan Matthews on Vimeo.

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Only one footnote this week, since I want to focus on the joy this documentary gave me in my classes these last couple of days. But I really hope the case of Ramallah Friends Schools teacher Nour Joudah and her exclusion from Palestine can get more exposure.

And happy International Women's Day!