As promised I have more Jesus paraphernalia:

The sound board and microphones in the background may confuse some readers, so I’ll flesh out the situation. Each Saturday morning this month I’ve produced a radio show on a community station about garage sales. That’s why I refer to other people making these enviable purchases rather than myself, as I spend each morning in the studio while others do the actual garage saleing. I’m allowed to make requests, however, and that’s why Marni and Rodney selected this Jesus plate for me.

I think this plate is right on the border of kitsch and just plain useless/tacky. But it has a lot going for it — the unapologetically Caucasian Jesus with flawless pink-toned skin, the flowing brown hair and immaculately groomed beard, the white tunic with sash (coloured purple? I assume the artist intended for it to read as blue, as that’s the traditional Jesus sash colour, and everyone knows purple is the colour of gay). The image also features the subtle yet evident halo and heaven’s light shining down on Jesus’ face in 3/4 profile.

You can’t discern it in this low-resolution image, but at the bottom edge of the Jesus picture a scripted font reads “Inspiration.” That actually makes me wonder if maybe this was part of a series. Perhaps we will find the others next week. What could they be? (Dare i hope for one entitled “Temptation?” Get thee behind me, Satan!)

But our radio show strives to reflect the diversity of the community so we also seek out other forms of religious imagery that borders on kitsch. The Fat Buddha has long been a fixture of the pop culture visual lexicon, but seldom is it so disturbing as this:

Its menacing countenance is part drag queen and part gremlin. Looking at this candle, I imagine that if I took it home I would place it on one shelf only to find it mysteriously reappearing wherever else in the house I went — the kitchen cupboard, the shower stall, the closet, the freezer. Each time I would return it to its appointed place on the bookshelf only to have it once again appear next to me at my desk or bedside. I would throw it in the trash. It would appear on my car dashboard. I would chop it up into pieces, and then throw it out. It would appear in my handbag. I would melt it down, its gelatinous pink flesh forming a grotesque melange in my saucepan until–

Well, the point is I didn’t take it home and I think it’s still hanging out at the radio station. It’s also worth noting that, like the image of Jesus above, this religion founder also appears to be Caucasian.

Oh yes, I almost forgot: the Jesus plate cost me the sum of $0.50. I don’t know how much Freaky Buddha cost, but it can’t have been much more.

WHATEVER WILL WE FIND NEXT? If you have any requests, let me know and I’ll pass them on to our intrepid field reporters.

I’ve been thinking about prayer.

In all my religious activities, I’m looking for new ways to approach the sacraments and conventions of Christianity instead of reverting back to the way I always did things growing up. I’ve been reading Gail Ramshaw’s Under the Tree of Life: The Religion of a Feminist Christian and had some thoughts piqued by a chapter on prayer, but I don’t think there’s room in this entry for rumination on that, so I’ll have to save my reactions for another day.

What actually sparked this particular entry was a post (an old one, but hey, cut me some slack, I’m new) at semplice. Jonathan writes:

meditative prayer is no different than eastern meditation for all practical purposes. some will argue, and i think correctly, that the object in the meditation is quite different for christians. we would meditate on god or god-like things whereas a buddhist or hindu would not.

I actually wonder if Christians can learn a lot from Buddhist meditation and indeed Buddhist teachings in general. The goal of Buddhist meditation is to be, essentially, as present and in-the-moment as possible, to focus only on the activity in which one is currently enagaged. There is a book on Buddhist meditation and knitting, which may seem strange to many (especially those of you don’t realize that knitting is cool and awesome. If you are one of those people you are wrong, just like the people who don’t think that Dolly Parton is totally awesome are wrong). It makes a lot of sense to me. Traditional Buddhist meditation focusses on the breath as a focal point for bringing the consciousness to the present, and Tara Jon Manning suggests using the stitch as the same vehicle for mindfulness. I find knitting to be incredibly relaxing (that is, when I’m not working out the math on a sweater pattern or reading the pattern wrong and decreasing ever second row when it should be every third or…) but Manning takes the point that often, while knitting, we let our thoughts wander, to the TV show we’re watching or to our work problems or to the other minutiae of life that can get oh so aggravating. She suggests that we can train our minds to focus on the present, the simple act we are performing by wrapping yarn around needle, and as such do far more to still our spirits.

So what does that have to do with Christian meditation? The knitting part, not much. It’s just that I find it so difficult to not talk about knitting that it found its way into the entry all on its own.

I think Buddhist meditation techniques are quite applicable to Christianity. I think this because I read in the bible that God first introduces godself only with the name “I Am.” That’s it. An expression of being and being in the present.

I’m reminded of a popular poem, a posterized version of which can be found at your local Christian temple of commercialism. It’s by Helen Mallicoat, and its title is “My Name Is I am.” What the hell, may as well post it in its entirety (copyright be ignored, for now, I hope Ms. Mallicoat doesn’t mind).

I was regretting the past and fearing the future. Suddenly my Lord was Speaking:

“My name is I am”

He paused.

I waited. He continued.

“When you live in the past with its mistakes and regrets, it is hard.

“I am not there. My name is not I was.

“When you live in the future, with its problems and fears, it is hard.

I am not there. My name is not I will be!

“When you live in this moment it is not hard. I am here.

My name is I am.”

The poem is a bit trite, plenty androcentric and naturally a little questionable (This moment isn’t hard? I can think of plenty of “moments” that are really bitch hard, thank you very much). However, let’s not throw the baby out with the bathwater and consider instead the main message: that is, let’s confine our linear existence to this particular temporal junction. We are linear beings; God is not. To me, “I Am” is the ultimate representation of that. It’s the only way our linear minds can understand the concept of a nonlinear existence, for the “I Am” to supercede even the was and is to come.

Existing in the moment, I think, opens up the soul to eternity. For me, thinking about the past or future inevitably involves a complete retreat into my own brain along with a significant amount of self-obsession. When I have attempted Buddhist-style meditation, I have found it difficult and overwhelming. To exist in the moment is to break down the barriers between the self and the eternal.

I don’t know what prayer is anymore. I don’t know if the kind of prayer that my mother does diligently is the kind for me. But as someone who wants to start praying again, I wonder if this kind of meditative practice might be a good way to start, a good way to enter the presence of God by entering the present.

Thus ends the obtuse and pretentious segment of today’s post. The moral of my story is, Maybe Eastern Meditation Isn’t Evil and also Meditation Is Really Hard and also I Have No Idea What I’m Talking About.

But wait! One more thing.

a zen driving meditation that I have used.

Before starting the car,
I know where I am going.
The car and I are one.
If the car goes fast, I go fast.

A non-deist mantra, to be sure, but helpful in its own way. Very good for rush hour traffic, I find. Also makes you a safer driver, and in this winter season (at least, it is for my half of the world) I wish nothing less for you and yours. Cars are deadly. Be safe.

If the idea of using a non-deist mantra like that queers you out, by all means, go ahead and work Jesus in there… and no, “God Is My Co-Pilot” doesn’t count.