I suppose it’s obvious to anyone visiting this site that it’s no longer an active blog, but I thought I would make it official — this site is closed. More or less. I can’t see myself writing anything new in it for the time being, so I’m going to make it clear to anyone who happens upon it that they shouldn’t expect different.

That said, I’m happy to leave the existing material up for anyone who does stumble across S&P. You’re welcome to leave comments, too — I’ll get notifications for them, so I’ll see them. You can email jenny at steeplesandpeople dot com, too, if you have something you want to say.

That’s all! Be well, everybody.

On Prayer

You ask me how to pray to someone who is not.
All I know is that prayer constructs a velvet bridge
And walking it we are aloft, as on a springboard,
Above landscapes the color of ripe gold
Transformed by a magic stopping of the sun.
That bridge leads to the shore of Reversal
Where everything is just the opposite and the word ‘is’
Unveils a meaning we hardly envisioned.
Notice: I say we; there, every one, separately,
Feels compassion for others entangled in the flesh
And knows that if there is no other shore
We will walk that aerial bridge all the same.

Czeslaw Milosz

Hi, all! You still reading? Is this thing on?

Well, I’ve dropped off the face of the religiosphere for a number of reasons, the foremost of which being that I’ve kind of taken a break from thinking about religion. Since I stopped going to church, it’s been significantly easier to do that. Right now my perspective on religion, and even spirituality as a whole, is so cynical that I expect participation in any discussion about it is non-productive for me and everyone else.

Another reason I haven’t been around much is because I’ve been feeling much better (you may recall, I have chronic fatigue syndrome and fibromyalgia) and therefore have been working more. The past few weeks I’ve been working full-time, with only one or two of those days spent working from home. That hasn’t been possible in a long, long time, my friends!

What has prompted me to poke my head out was the discovery that Steve Sjogren made a comment on my last entry, referring to a post I made last summer responding to a Pastors.com article he wrote about pastors and the concept of original thought.

Here’s an excerpt of his comment:

I have spoken as much as anyone you will ever meet in terms of actual times in front of an audience - between 10,000 and 12,000 times. All that to say - I have learned a lot - still am about the craft of communicating orally. I am more than honored that each weekend that many communicators lift my messages, hundreds of invented phrases - without being quoted.

What struck me about what he said there was the use of the word communicating/communicator.

My university degree is in communications. I’m not trying to set myself up as an expert here, just explaining that I took a lot of courses in the discipline of rhetoric. Now, there are many different definitions of rhetoric as a discipline, but I’ll give you one by a well-known rhetorician, Kenneth Burke:

The most characteristic concern of rhetoric [is] the manipulation of men’s beliefs for political ends….the basic function of rhetoric [is] the use of words by human agents to form attitudes or to induce actions in other human agents.

Just as the word ‘rhetoric’ has a negative connotation in Western culture, so does the word ‘persuasion,’ often. I don’t see rhetoric or persuasion as morally polarized in and of themselves. One television ad will persuade a viewer to give to a charity; another television ad will persuade the viewer to buy nutritionally-devoid, more-than-slightly-toxic fast food. Some people will say that all communication is an attempt at persuasion on one level. You don’t have to buy into that to acknowledge the power that rhetoric, that communication, has in a multitude of situations in all facets of life — the private, the public, and everything in between.

My cynicism here revolves around the idea that a gifted orator can convince an audience of many things. I won’t go so far as to say ‘anything,’ (though we can always point to Hitler as the default example of this) but certainly a lot. My question is, when you are moved, stirred, convicted by a pastor’s sermon — that is, an orator at work — are you being called by a higher power? Is the Spirit moving? Or is it purely the talent of the speaker, the order of the words, the sequence of the argument?

I feel this same trepidation toward music and worship. Human beings respond to music. I’ve said before on this blog that I’ve felt the same transcendent feelings at indie pop shows that I’ve felt in church services. I believe music has a special effect on the human psyche, human emotions, that must be separated from the supernatural.

The power of music and the power of communication/rhetoric are two branches of the same tree, in my view. Experiences that are a result of their effective use are never to be trivialized or ignored, but it’s essential to take a good look at what’s creating that sense of conviction in your heart (or, should I say, your ‘gut’), what’s making your spirits soar over the piano chords and vocal harmonies.

Counter-arguments I anticipate:
“God created rhetoric and music, and that’s why they work on people.”

Not a particularly effective argument against a person who does not presuppose the existence of God and/or the particular expression of God that would interact with humanity in such a way

“It’s not an either/or proposition. It’s not a matter of genuine spiritual experience vs. rhetorical/emotional manipulation.”

Perhaps. But my current frame of mind demands I examine the religious experience as it compares to the secular, especially since so much of the religion I was raised in was focussed on ‘feeling.’ That kind of faith becomes problematic when, it turns out, you don’t ‘feel’ it. This has to do with my own personal issues. I’m not condemning the use of oratory and music in worship, because that would be silly. Though it all makes me wonder if maybe the Quakers had it right. Sit in a bare room with your fellow believers and wait for something to happen. No sermons, no worship ballads to obscure the truth.

NB: The title of this post translates to “The forest of rhetoric,” and is also the name of an excellent reference site on this very topic.

Wow, I’m a bit of a tool. Way back on December 12, Bill tagged me for a meme and he even told me about it but I didn’t read his comment until just now so I didn’t know.

SORRY!

OK, here goes.

Five Things You Probably Didn’t Know About Me

1. I’m fat, and I self-identify as fat. I’m also fat positive, which means I don’t think it’s wrong or bad or even unhealthy to be fat. If you call me a fat bitch, I won’t take it as an insult ’cause neither of those words is an insult in my vocabulary.

2. I’m allergic to wheat, eggs, and dairy. Not in an anaphylactic way (like my brother is to nuts) but just in the way that they make me feel crappy so I avoid them. ‘Course sometimes I cheat, usually when chocolate or whipped cream is involved. My two best friends are vegan and they cheat under those same circumstances (one of them also cheats for brie).

3. When I was a preteen I spent endless hours playing out in the drainage ditch behind our house. Though it was a human-made feature, it became a habitat to all manner of wildlife including ducks, red-winged blackbirds, snails and frogs. One spring my mom even had to suffer me having an aquarium with tadpoles in it on her desk! I would make little habitats for the frogs in an old baby bathtub.

4. Speaking of my childhood, because the subdivision we live in wasn’t fully developed when I was young, there were a lot of empty lots in the neighbourhood. My brother and I used to play ‘Pioneers.’ That involved packing up our toy wagon with blankets, dolls and other playthings and carting them out into the empty lots, and picking the tall grasses and pretending to cook them.

5. I often fantasize about surprising random people at bus stops by offering them a free ride to wherever they’re going. Sometimes when I’m waiting at a bus stop I wish that someone I know would drive up and give me a ride — this has happened to me, but as you can imagine it’s a very rare occurrence. It’s almost always nicer and easier to get a ride than to take the bus. So when I see people waiting at bus stops when I’m driving a car, especially when it’s cold or otherwise inclement, I have this desire to stop and ask them if I can take them wherever they’re going. I would never do this, though, mostly because I don’t think most people would take me up on the offer. The would think I was a freak.

Ooops, almost forgot to tag. I herethuswith tag:

Brother Mark of Shifting Shifted Shifty
Steve of Stupid Church People
Lindsey of The Wolf that Lives in Lindsey
Pearlbear of Metacentricities
Kevin of Wasp Jerky

Today my friend Jane left for Switzerland, where she’ll be for a week before she continues on to Uganda, where she’ll work for a year setting up mobile clinics in the northern part of that country (the part right next to the Sudan). For real. She’s a nurse, and having known her for 19 years, I’m completely confident this is the thing for her to do. I’ve always thought of her as being independent and fearless, and that’s what you have to be to do something this incredible.

The NGO she’s working for is a well-established one that’s very invested in keeping their employees happy and healthy (and, well, alive), so I have high hopes she’ll be able to stick out her contract.

While I personally don’t relish the idea of needing a military escort to get to work, in a lot of ways I envy her — how amazing to have the skills and ability to do something that will actually make a difference (as trite as that sounds).

Well, here it is, a new year. Wacky! I enjoyed myself at the annual house party I attended, though not as much as previous years ’cause we got a massive snowfall the day before that kept some people away from the party. Parties are really all about the people. Even if your party has fresh vegan wontons, accordions, vintage vinyl and ancient Egypt scenes made of gingerbread, as this one did.

I had to go back to work on the second, which is far too early if you ask me. You need more than one day to recover from NYE, even if you’re not nursing a hangover but rather just the effects of a late night and too much sugar.

In other news, Brother Mark is getting ready for his final semester of college. He’s TA-ing a course on the Emerging Church, too, and will be delivering several lectures. To that end, he has requested loans from my personal library, namely Steve’s favourite, Cages of Pain and any books on feminist theology I might have. Toward that end, I gave him just one, the superlative Under the Tree of Life: The Religion of a Feminist Christian by Gail Ramshaw, about which I have waxed rhapsodic many a time on this blog (run a search).

I hope you all have had a good start to your new year!

Harry Lehotsky, pastor of New Life Ministries here in Winnipeg died last night. He was diagnosed with advanced pancreatic cancer this spring. He was 49.

I just got the news myself so I’m not really ready to eulogize him. Actually, all I’m thinking about is my friend, his son Brandon. Last week we were talking over pizza in a church basement somewhere and it was too much to bear. Too much sadness, too much pain knowing that the end was so near. All I can think about is myself, and how my dad almost died three years ago but medical science had a cure for him. That wasn’t the case for Brandon, though. Maybe in twenty years they’ll have a cure for pancreatic cancer they way they do for cardiomyopathy, but they sure as hell don’t have one now. What makes me so lucky? Because honestly, there’s not much in the way of divine intervention, here. Our fathers live and die by the abilities of modern science, nothing more.

Brandon is one of the best, most easy-going guys I know and I hope this doesn’t change that. Though how could it not? How would it not change you if your dad, an amazing guy who actually made a difference in the world, died so young? When you were so young?

On one level, when we eulogize Harry Lehotsky, it will be easy because he accomplished so much and made this city better and affected so many people. He built affordable housing, he built a restaurant that serves good, inexpensive food, he fought for a neighbourhood that was ignored and forgotten by the rest of the city. His funeral will be massive, and we’ll all grieve together. But in the end, he wasn’t even 50 years old yet. He could have done way more. He had a family that needed him. His sons are all out of high school, but they still need him. Can all of his accomplishments really balance out the inherent tragedy of this?

So I guess awhile ago I said something about writing in this blog more regularly? Turns out I was full of shit apparently. I’m not entirely sure why I haven’t been writing — I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I’m not feeling particularly theist these days and don’t know how to go about religious discussion bearing that fact.

I haven’t been keeping up with the blogs of those folks you see on the sidebar (and some who aren’t on the sidebar — I do try to stray outside the mutual admiration society every now and again). This has been a mistake, as I see some of you have been making startling, intruiging, thought-provoking posts and hopefully I’ll find it within myself to respond in kind.

Anyway. As you may recall, I’d given up going to church (First Church of Suburbia, herewith known as FCoS) at the start of the summer; I have not returned. I had planned to keep going to the “College and Career” “small group” (it’s not small — it has an average of 15 people). And I had gone… for the first few weeks at least. But I’m done. Now I’m done with both services and Smallies, so I guess I’ve quit church entirely now? I dunno.

The reason I quit Smallies (or, at least, begun a break. Maybe in a few weeks I’ll calm down) is… well, there’s no one reason. But I guess I’m just tired of spending two hours a week being one of two badasses in the group, trying to push boundaries and bring up new ideas and ways of looking at things that don’t involve the usual Christian platitudes and Sunday-School answers. I’m not interested in dealing with a group where thought-provoking discussions are shut down (And where Christianity isn’t a patriarchal religion, apparently).

I don’t really want to get into it too much in detail because a certain amount of confidence should be kept. But I’m sure you can extrapolate.

I know some of you are curious about the outcome of the meeting with the worship leader guy a few weeks back. Well, at the meeting proper I behaved myself (that is, kept the snarky comments to a bare minimum) but also totally chickened out and didn’t say any of the things I was planning on saying, due to the presence of some people who I didn’t really know if I could trust with my oh-so-radical ideas (I guess I’m really more scared of rolled eyes than I realized).

I mentioned in the comments of that last entry that the worship leader is in fact a really awesome guy, and he proved that by emailing me afterward and saying he was open to hearing my actual real thoughts. So, I told him. And gave him a link to this blog. And he didn’t write back for a week, and I thought maybe he was scared off but today he wrote back and was exceedingly cool in his response to everything I said about gender and even the non-theism thing.

Anyway.

I wonder if I should write a letter to the “small” group or something? My brother told me he’d explain my absence, since my frustrations are shared equally by him (the only difference is that he has an actual belief in Jesus to keep him going).

Ugh.

I pretty much haven’t gone to church all summer, such has been my frame of mind. But the thing is, I may not be up for church or any Christianing, but I still care about a lot of people who happen to be Christians and church-goers, and I want to spend time with them. Just not in the pew. Y’know.

Today I skipped the service but did join the crew for a trip to Boston Pizza for lunch. I got to catch up with Elf, who just finished her first week as a full-fledged grade one teacher, give GoodFaith a welcome-home hug (she summers in Australia) and make fun of G-Knit.

I think I’m going to attend the weekly bible studies; we’ll see how they go. The book we’re doing (because, in our culture, small groups must always “do” a book) is Blue Like Jazz, a tome which I read (what seems like) long ago and which I didn’t find terribly revolutionary; that said, its effect on others less ornery than I may be quite different.

Steev is now the de-facto “leader” of the college/career-age group at First Church of Suburbia, and he mentioned that existing C&Cers should seek out any other members of our age group (currently, 18-25) and invite them to events. He meant eligible members within the church, but someone thought he meant people from outside the church. Thus began a semi-comedic riff on recruiting, with Steev saying he expects us to bring five new people to each event and Matty K laughing at that, and then Steve saying, Why are you laughing? You don’t think I’m serious? and then me saying, We knew you weren’t serious because five is too small a number, we’ll be bringing TEN each! And then Steev said maybe we could get points for bringing people.

And then I said, well, you would have to give point values to certain types of people.

First example: someone who already goes to church - 1 point. Someone who was raised in the church - 2 points.

Naturally, it goes on from there.

Virgin - 1 point
Non-virgin - 3 points
Catholic - 3 points
Anglican - 2 points
Agnostic - 5 points
Athiest - 10 points (highest value)
Someone who’s served prison time - 9 points

This is such a great idea, I’m sure that some denominations already do it.

Back in the day when I was all devout and shit, I was always terrible at recruiting. I’m probably masking deep psychological scars by making light of the whole thing now but that’s my way, what can I say?

There have been some thoughtful inquiries as to my well-being, so I’m posting to say that yes, I’m alive, though I have had a series of quite shitty weeks healthwise, contributing to my deliquency as a blogger.

That said, it’s not just the chronic illness — lately I’ve had very little tolerance for things religious. I haven’t been much for reading or writing about spirituality. Maybe I just needed a little vacation. I’m hoping that the beginning of the fall months will kick start me into a new creative mode. I do have some things I want to talk about — mostly pop culture-related, but I need to be feeling a bit less shitty in order to write.