Discussion or Lecture?

I'm working on a post for Friday that will address the need for "discussions" in greater detail. As a teaser for that, I share this image, which is making the rounds online:

Between Faith and Ideology

In the July 15, 2012 issue of the New York Times, Ross Douthat criticized the current state of liberal Christianity. In the article, Mr. Douthat seemed to place a large share of the blame on the writings of John Shelby Spong, a retired Episcopal bishop and liberal theologian.

While I’m willing to admit that liberal Christianity has its problems, I’m not sure one man is responsible for its ills. Although I’m not Episcopalian, I’ve read a number of Bishop Spong’s books in my quest to understand and define my own personal beliefs. I don’t agree with everything Bishop Spong’s books said, but I do feel that those works demonstrate a careful studying of his religion and a set of beliefs informed by thought and reflection. His model is one I think every person of faith should follow, regardless of religious affiliation.

 I’m also not convinced that conservative Christianity is as healthy and strong as Mr. Douthat wants to believe. Truthfully, I think many of the world’s major religions are at a crossroads, feeling the pressures of an increasingly interconnected global economy and the changes wrought by technological advances.

Certainly, the Roman Catholic Church is grappling with ideological divisions between liberal and conservative leaders. Most of the Protestant denominations face similar issues, as Mr. Douthat’s op-ed noted. In the past decade, Muslims have also found themselves at an ideological crossroads, with Western nations and liberal imams demanding that liberal Muslims denounce the activities of the September 11^th terrorists, while conservative imams have escalated their anti-Western rhetoric in response to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

To my mind, faith is a personal matter, and ideology should be too. Let me unpack that statement. I define faith as the set of beliefs that governs a person’s actions, the person’s moral and/or ethical compass in life. In contrast, ideology is the outward demonstration of that faith. I think that definition works for most of the world’s religions, and it seems to apply also to those who are agnostic or atheist.

Mr. Douthat’s article critiques the liberal Christian ideology that welcomes multicultural influences and pluralism. In leveling that criticism, he forgets that Americans have developed a firm belief in pluralism, using our multiculturalism as a source of strength. To abandon that in the pew or the temple or the mosque is to turn our backs on one of our country’s great assets.

Those of us fortunate to have friends who are Christian, atheist, Buddhist, Wiccan, Muslim, agnostic or Jewish see how interacting with believers from different backgrounds strengthens our own faith and deepens our connections to our own beliefs. The problem isn’t with multiculturalism. The problem is with an anti-intellectualism movement, which asks that people stop thinking for themselves and blindly follow another person’s faith and ideology. People of faith need to examine their beliefs to ensure that the inward faith and its outward manifestations are in accord.

Change, Nostalgia and Sentimentality

I read an article recently that talked about the differences between nostalgia and sentimentality. The writer argued that nostalgia is a realistic and appropriate reaction to change, while sentimentality is an inappropriate romanticizing of things that weren’t really good at all. The article went on to argue that New Yorkers, because of the constant changes around us, are better at handling nostalgia and sentimentality. That is, this writer claimed that New Yorkers don't feel sentimentality, which the article portrayed as a negative emotion built on false memories. Instead, we feel nostalgia, which is a loss for things that were good, an emotion the writer said made us better aware of how to accept life’s inevitable changes.

I’m not sure if I buy into the writer’s premise, but I can see that I’m learning the differences between those two emotions in my own life. Perhaps that's why I'm convinced I could never live in Tucson or Seattle again. That is, maybe I'm on my way to becoming a true New Yorker because I recognize every event, every activity, every change that occurs in our lives changes us profoundly. Because of those changes, when we leave the place that formed us and move somewhere else, the new place also makes impression upon us and it changes us too. In some ways, our new homes make it impossible for us to go back to where we started, which is why we’re told that, “you can’t go home again.”

I also think that those people staying in the same place their entire lives experience profound change, although they may not realize it. For those who live in the same area where they were born, the changes wrought by time are slower and less perceptible. In fact, many of them will argue that nothing about them changes, and they often find comfort in that belief.

For these people, having a relative move away is a scary proposition. When that person returns for visits, she or he doesn’t seem to be the same person anymore. That is, the person who has left the hometown has changed in ways that are far more obvious than the person who stayed in one place. However, the people who stay also change because change is inevitable. It just happens at a much slower pace, which makes the changes imperceptible to those living them.

The truth is, change happens no matter what we might do in our efforts to stop it. No matter how convinced we are that where we live never changes, it actually does. Even the smallest town or hamlet in America experiences change over time. Time is change, and the passage of time results in changes to people and the environment. Even in a small town, new businesses move in with a new family or an old business closes because the family who owned it goes away. Maybe the old man who ran the corner store finally succumbs to old age, and no one in his family is left to take over the store. All of these events, while small in the grand scheme of things, change the character of that town and all the people in it. That's why some of the greatest fiction deals with small towns and the people in them, focusing closely on what happens when one event affects everyone in that town.

 In some ways it's a law of physics writ large and turned into an acting agent upon the human condition. That is, it's a law of physics turned into a law of human nature. The people who stay in one place are like the objects at rest. Physics tells us those objects will not change unless acted upon by an outside force. And, the people who leave are like the objects in motion that won't stop unless forced to do so by an outside force. Where physics fails to apply to human nature is that even when staying in one place, change is inevitable. Human beings don’t like change; we prefer our schedules and to keep everything in comfortable sameness. But, change happens all the time, so we’d do well to learn to embrace it and channel its power to create new and better worlds for ourselves and those around us.

The Artist and the Abyss

Nietzsche said if you stare into the abyss too long, the abyss stares back into you. That statement is especially true for artists, and I believe that all great artists – painters, sculptors, poets, novelists, photographers and so forth - often stare into the abyss. The abyss is the human condition, the human soul, the human experience. Artists look into the deepest, darkest part of the human soul or human nature, and they reflect back what they see through their art. The best art works like a mirror, showing us what we truly are as human beings. When a work of art touches upon truth, it’s because the artist successfully stared into the abyss and captured a moment that is universal to humanity. Those seeing this artwork see something internal, as if the artwork is a mirror to the person’s mind and soul. The artwork gets inside that person, showing her or him a truth that perhaps wasn’t understood until she or he saw that work of art.

I am not talking about the flawed concept that humanity has something common, a shared “human nature,” because I think that idea has been thoroughly debunked. To me, the concept of  “human nature” is, at its root, the thing that makes us all animals. That is, I think the only thing that is universally true for all humans is the thing that makes us animals. We all need food, water and shelter to survive, but that’s something that can be said for every species on the planet, whether animal or plant. Each being needs certain conditions to be met in order to survive, so “human nature” doesn’t raise us above the other animals. Instead, it marks us as another living being, but not one that is special or superior to the others.

No, what marks human beings as unique among the natural world is our craving for truth and our attempts to demonstrate “truth” through art. The catch here is that “truth” is a fraught concept, one that is constructed culturally and may change over time. I don’t believe in universal truths, which is the idea that something is always true regardless of location or cultural mores. Instead, I believe that truth is a cultural concept, an idea that only exists within its cultural moment. Truth, to me, is as flexible and variable as “right” and “wrong.” All three concepts are cultural constructs. That is, someone in Omaha may think that it’s wrong to steal food from a grocery store. In another time and place, that act of theft would be condoned (or perhaps celebrated) if the culture surrounding the act had different social values. The idea that “human nature” means that certain things are always right and other things are always wrong is at the heart of every war over religion or politics. The mistaken belief that “we’re right and they’re wrong, so we must conquer and free them from their wrong ways of thinking” has brought more horror and tragedy to the world than we can possibly understand.

To me, an artistic truth is the closest we get to a shared “human nature” or “common human condition.” That is, artistic truths frighten us because great art can transcend its cultural moment and touch us across time. That’s because the artist has to grapple with the abyss. By staring into the abyss, she or he has faced down the deepest, darkest parts of the human psyche, and she or he has also stared in the bright, full sunlight of humankind’s most beautiful aspirations. These events occur every time the artist created new piece of art. If the artist is successful at staring into the abyss, she or he will create a great work that touches many people, a work that withstands the cultural shifts and reaches across the things that divide us from one another. But each attempt to look into the abyss risks the artist's soul, her or his creativity and perhaps even the artist’s very life. For if the artist grapples with the abyss and loses that battle, no art is created. In this instance, the artist may well go mad like Ernest Hemingway did.

Each time the artist approaches the abyss, she or he sends up a silent, secret prayer - “Please let me create something truly worthy this time. Let this experience bring forth a work of art that can withstand the tests of time and transcend my cultural moment. And, if I don't survive this interaction with the abyss, then please grant me enough time and sanity to finish this work of art. If the abyss should win, let this final work of art stand as a witness to my struggle with the abyss, a monument to the creative endeavor.”

American society often cuts its funding for artistic endeavors when economic times are tough, and our current moment in history is no exception. However, we fail to recognize the importance of artistic endeavor, particularly at moments of great social change. American society is facing economic and social pressures that will reshape our nation, changes that will shape and change what America stands for, for all time. Funding artistic endeavors is crucial to understanding exactly what we face and how it may shape us. Without artists gazing into the abyss for us, without their efforts to envision the best and worst possible outcomes of our present challenges, we won’t know which path to choose. Art shows us what we are and what we can be, both the good and the bad. Without artists gazing into what could be possible, we are walking along a dark path unguided.

The Idealism of Arts and Politics

American voters head to the polls in November of this year, voting for a President, Representatives and some Senators, as well as state and local officials. We're a politically active family, regularly voting in elections, even when the only items on the ballot are small, local measures, the kind of measures that typically result in low voter turnout. We pay a lot of attention to political ads and issues, and we also have a strong body of ideals about what America should be. Given all that, it's probably not surprising that, yet again, we're re-watching "The West Wing" on DVD.

Of course, part of deciding to revisit the saga of the Bartlet administration is because I recently finished reading Stories I Only Tell My Friends, the Rob Lowe autobiography. Mr. Lowe's early films were touchstones for my generation, and my interest in his career was rekindled by his stellar work as Sam Seaborn, the idealistic young speechwriter on "The West Wing." So, when I heard he had an autobiography and it was being considered a top read for 2011, I decided to give it a try. I really enjoyed the book, and Jen is now reading it. After finishing the book, I found myself wishing the following:

1. I wish we lived in an apartment with a bigger kitchen and dining space
2. I wish I were a better cook, someone who prepares the kind of meals you serve to guests - meals that spark interesting dinner conversations
3. I wish I had Mr. Lowe's phone number, so I could invite him and his wife to share that meal and conversation with me and Jen

Setting that aside for a moment, I was really surprised to read that Mr. Lowe is, perhaps, nearly as idealistic and politically minded as his "West Wing" character was. That really isn't my perception of Mr. Lowe, although it's not uncommon for Hollywood celebrities to be politically active in association with progressive causes. However, Mr. Lowe hasn't been vocal about his political activities or views in recent years, certainly not as active as George Clooney, Angelina Jolie or Brad Pitt are. And yet, reading Mr. Lowe's autobiography showed him to be a politically active man, one with fairly progressive values and a strong, idealistic view of America's past and its potential.

Perhaps that's why the Sam Seaborn character resonates so strongly with me. He's a young man who leaves a high-paying job as a New York attorney to do "the right thing" and try to make a difference by taking a job in the White House. And, I keep getting emails from MoveOn.org, which ask if I want to join a grassroots, progressive effort to counter the Tea Party sweep from 2010. The email was looking for people to either run for office or serve as staff members on campaigns.

To be honest, I've considered running for political office in the past. However, I can also think of a number of reasons why I shouldn't. First and foremost, Jen hates the spotlight. And, if I ran for a political office, even at the lowest levels, she would be caught in the glare because of me. Also, as an out lesbian in a long-term relationship/marriage, I would have a hard time winning an election, even in liberal New York City. Also, I'm self-employed and have a very low income, while the bulk of our household expenses are covered by Jen's salary. So, financially, I'm not in any position to run for political office. Plus, I don't have a network of friends and associates here in the city, since I work from home. The few people I knew from my graduate studies at NYU have either moved away for jobs or they aren't eligible to vote in New York. So, running for office isn't really an option for me, even though I sometimes wish it were. Like Mr. Lowe's TV character, I want to make a difference and do the right thing while trying to help our great nation live up to its potential.

From what I read in his book, Mr. Lowe's portrayal of the Sam Seaborn character tapped into his own political values and beliefs about what America should be. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I like the Sam Seaborn character even more now than I did before, which is really saying something. He's the kind of character I think more people should aspire to be. Even Mr. Lowe's departure from the show was handled in such a way as to follow the character's inclination to do the right thing and work for the good of the nation. Sam Seaborn leaves the White House to run for Congressional office in a strongly Republican district in southern California. He offers to run for the office when the candidate dies in office and the widow asks for a high-profile candidate to carry the party's standard in the district. Seaborn gets clobbered at the polls, which only underscores the character's deeply ingrained sense of justice, responsibility and public service.

I was also pleasantly surprised to discover that Mr. Lowe is a writer and penned his autobiography. I assumed he'd hired a ghostwriter, which is the most common route for a celebrity wanting to write a book. However, when reading the book, I learned that Mr. Lowe has several uncredited screenwriting turns under his belt, in addition to being an actor, director and producer. And, throughout the book, I noticed passages that could only have been penned by someone who is intimately connected to the acting world and familiar with its nuances and structure. Some of those same passages included really moving and thought-provoking reflections on creating art and the artist's role in society. So, if Mr. Lowe did actually use a ghostwriter, his ghost is either very, very gifted or Mr. Lowe is quite good and conveying his deepest thoughts and beliefs about his work as an artist to another person.

Setting all that aside, I keep wishing that life could imitate art. Why aren't the best and brightest minds in our country, regardless of ideology, the ones called to serve the country? Why does political office only draw the egomanics, knaves and rogues among us? Has that always been the case, or is it a side effect of our current culture? Today is Abraham Lincoln's birthday, and Americans revere him now as one of the greatest men to ever serve as President of the United States. However, history also shows us that in his own time, Lincoln was reviled by his contemporaries as an ignorant backwoods lawyer who was uncultured and lacked the political sophistication needed to hold high office. So, I find myself wondering: Did past generations think that Washington was a vain, egotistical man eager for the spotlight and dangerously attracted to power, the way we think about our aspiring Presidential candidates? Or, did his contemporaries truly revere him as the Father of the Nation?

I'll be considering those questions throughout the coming year, in addition to other topics and headlines that catch my eye. One thing I know for certain, even before we get down to the brass tacks of this year's election cycle - Americans must take an interest in the country's direction and actually exercise our right to vote this year. At a time when corporate dollars have a greater impact on the political process than ever before, every vote, regardless of party and ideology, counts. In the words of "The West Wing," "No matter who you vote for, make sure you vote." Because "history is made by those who show up."

Reflections on The Anniversary

My memories of 9/11 revolve around fear, but not fear for myself. At the time of the attacks, we were living in Seattle and Jen worked in the Columbia Tower, the tallest building on the West Coast. We were getting ready for work and had the news on, where we heard about the Twin Towers. We headed to work, and I remember wishing Jen worked in any other location that day. She arrived at the building to find it was closed to everyone. She returned home and watched the broadcasts, while I attempted to go about my work as if nothing had happened.

I also remember, selfishly, worrying about a trip we had planned. The year 2001 marked a turning point for us. Jen had finished her bachelor's degree in 2000, and we were becoming more financially stable. The year before, we took our first real vacation as a couple. It was a trip to Tucson, our old stomping grounds, for a writers' conference and to visit my family. I didn't really attend the conference events, but we did catch up with family and revisit our favorite spots in Tucson.

In September 2001, we were scheduled to take our second couple's vacation, this time to San Francisco. Our flight was scheduled to leave Seattle the morning of September 15th, and we wondered if our trip would be canceled, due to the grounding of all commercial U.S. flights. We had already paid for our tickets, hotel and other expenses, and none of our travel plans could be canceled for a refund. Given how tight money still was for us, canceling that trip would have been a huge financial hit.

Fortunately, domestic flights resumed in time for our trip. And, somehow, we managed to get on our scheduled flight without mishap. The flight from Sea-Tac to San Francisco scheduled just before ours was canceled, because planes and crews still hadn't arrived in Seattle for all the scheduled flights. And, the flight immediately after ours was also canceled. But, our flight left without incident, although far fewer people were aboard than the airline expected.

People couldn't believe we traveled by plane only a few days after the attacks. But, when I think back on it, that trip to San Francisco was the best vacation we've ever taken. Perhaps we were more aware of our surroundings because of the attacks. Or, maybe we were simply relishing being alive, which imprinted the memories of the things we did and saw more deeply. Whatever the reason, we absorbed the atmosphere of San Francisco more thoroughly than we have any other place we've visited.

We traveled fearlessly around an unfamiliar city, walking through neighborhoods that were less-than-tourist-friendly as if we belonged there. We trekked the city's transit system, navigating it remarkably well for two people who hadn't used it before. We tried new foods, even though neither of us is usually an adventurous eater. On that trip, we experienced a new city in a spirit of discovery and joy that I've never encountered before or since. I think everyone wants to have that kind of experience when they travel, but most of us return from our vacations slightly let down, as if the trip wasn't the sensory extravaganza we had dreamt about.

Perhaps that is the true lesson I've learned from the horrors of 9/11. Each day, each moment is one to be savored, to be experienced as fully as I can. That's easier said than done, of course. But as we start a new, post-9/11 decade, I vow to consciously engage all of my senses so I can more fully experience the world around me. Each day, I will tell those I love how much they mean to me. If 9/11 has taught us nothing else, at least I've learned that tomorrow may not come.

Too Big to Fail But Too Small to Try

I’ve been doing some research into career coaching, with the thought of looking for a career coach to help me take my writing and editing business to the next level. One website I saw today left me feeling uncomfortable. The site had this question posted, “What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail?”


Ever since reading that question, I’ve been uneasy. You see, I can’t answer it. Now, I think a lot of people I know would struggle to answer it, so I’m probably not alone in realizing I don’t have an answer, But, since I’m the introspective type, I’ve been trying to figure out why I can’t answer the question and why it makes me uncomfortable. And, I think I’ve identified two reasons for my disquiet.


First, I realized that I’m not sure what I’d attempt if I knew I’d succeed at it. That is, I haven’t allowed my dreams to get that big. The questions begs me to dream of something big and grand and exciting, and my imagination can’t break its boundaries and dream big enough to do the question justice. Since I consider myself a dreamer, I’m really disappointed to realize that I can’t think of some really big, exciting, “totally ludicrous” dream that’s a worthy answer to that question. I’ve somehow fettered my own imagination, and I never realized it until reading that question.


My second problem with that question involves fear. That question suggests that my life is limitless and full of potential, that I can accomplish anything if I want it enough. And, that says that the “prison bars” I see in my life are of my own making. That is, the things that keep me from the mundane, “realistic” successes I think I should have accomplished are barriers and obstacles that I created and imposed on myself.


In other words, that question pointed out two things. I haven’t allowed my imagination and my hopes to soar without limits. And, I haven’t attained the success I want because I haven’t allowed myself to be successful. Now that I’ve realized that, I have two new tasks for my life. First, I want to identify some dreams and aspirations that are worthy of the question. And, I want to break down the barriers and walls I’ve built that are holding me back from reaching those goals.