Lolly

The rector of my church, a very progressive Episcopal parish, frequently refers to us as an evangelical tradition, and has said that she'd very much like to see the term "evangelical" reclaimed from the fundamentalists and returned to its original meaning.

Well, okay, I guess I can poke some fun at my own denomination This one is stolen from an Episcopalian board: A line of people was formed up at the Pearly Gates, waiting to enter. St. Peter was checking their names off a clipboard. The next man stepped up and said, "Peter, I'm Jewish, can I still get in?" St. Peter said, "Why, of course. We have a reciprocity agreement. Let me just check your records here . . . Uh oh. You know that BLT sandwich you had last week? The "B" is for bacon, and bacon is pork, and you know you're not allowed to eat pork. Sorry, come back later." The next man stepped up. "St. Peter, I'm Roman Catholic, surely you'll let me in." St. Peter says, "Why, of course. Let me just check the documentation here . . . Hmmmm -- you know that Big Mac you ate last Friday. It's Lent, you know -- no meat on Friday. You'll have to come back later." The next man steps up. "I'm Episcopalian, I can get in right away, can't I?" St. Peter says, "Naturally! Let me just check this over . . . Uh oh. That vestry dinner last week? You ate your salad with the fish fork."

Probably the saddest aspect of the "War on Drugs" for me is that it has created a black market subculture for the sale of illegal drugs which, since it exists outside the law, operates without accountability to the society it markets to... which causes a great deal of social misery. Also, that it criminalizes normal adolescent curiosity and behavior. I wonder why we feel driven to hate or scapegoat these so-called "stoner kids?" Don't you think most of them would grow past this phase in thier lives? I know I did. Don't most kids flirt with testing the boundaries, trying out for themselves all the tantalizing things they've been told by others aren't good? Isn't that a normal part of what it is to grow up, grow beyond the control of our parents so that we can become independent and make our own way in the world? Aren't these kids really just like most of us were when we were that age, curious about the world, learning deep lessons about pain and the avoidance of pain? Haven't most of us tried some stupid things in an effort to "fix" our own discomfort at merely being alive? Yet we have created a culture in which this behavior is criminalized, and this attitude is so pervasive that we have no problem displaying our open contempt for such "stoner kids", some of whom fall down the rabbit hole because they buy into the glamorization of this criminal subculture which the war on drugs itself has wholly created. The vast majority of these are kids that could use a little understanding, yet many hold them in contempt. Why is that? Our kids are tossed into jail for the smallest of "crimes", where they are effectively removed from society and their odds of going on to create a meaningful or productive life for themselves are severely diminished. To me, that should be criminal. At the same time, we repeatedly are told that the best and quickest way to happiness is through the use of prescription drugs, some of which are every bit as addictive as the drugs that have been criminalized. Does no one else see the irony here?

I feel a bit of a lightweight in this conversation, having virtually no training in Western Philosophy at all, but I hope you all will humor me if I comment now and then, anyway. This is why I'm intrigued by the way the expression "the word" (logos) is used in John's Gospel. In my current leanings, the only way "creation" could have happened in a perfect void where all was God would have been if God decided to express him/herself. Perhaps this initial expression (or word) was the initial (and only?) act of creation, which set into motion all the dynamics-- the chain of cause and effect-- from which all form has since sprung? And, I do also lean toward this view, myself: This would fall into line with the ideas above, I think.

Yes, I know, and my hardcore buddhist friends tell me the same thing. That's why I'm here Honestly, I never "got" Christianity at all until I was fully steeped in "Eastern thought." After that, it just made so much sense to me, I couldn't believe that I had never been able to see it before. So much of the way we view things depends on the conditions under which we've formed our thoughts and opinions-- the traditions we've been raised with, the belief systems we've adopted that have formed our way of being in the world. I could never hope to see the world through the eyes of DCJ, and I am sure DCJ does not see the world through my eyes. Yet we are both looking at the same world. Nothing wrong with that, from where I sit.

BTW, it is exactly this sort of connectedness that comes to mind when I ponder what it is to be a "living member of the Body of Christ". Kind of cool, huh?

Fatherman: In my experience, non-dualism when not fully understood can frequently lead to nihilism. On the buddhist boards I read, I see this argument that Don refers to daily; it's a common "phase", if you will, among those who are trying to wrap their minds around a non-dualistic way of thinking. Fortunately, most eventually grow beyond it. I very much like the way you've put this here: Thich Nhat Hanh speaks in a similar fashion, and talks of conventional and ultimate realities. Conventional reality is the world of appearances, where things appear to be quite separate from everything else. It's the world of form and function. Ultimate reality comes into view when one sees the connectedness of all things, or, as you put it, that "we are all of God, but no one of us alone is God". Seeing this, we understand that when we help ourselves, we also help others, and vice versa.

Well, I've been staying out of this discussion, primarily because Jen's Jesus has put me in the rather uncomfortable position of feeling as though I should correct Jesus' assertions about what the buddha was teaching in the four noble truths. But, since you ask, I might as well toss this out. The first noble truth is that "Life is dukkha". Dukkha is usually translated as "suffering". No problems here. There are many translations of the noble truths, but in essence, the rest of the noble truths are as follows: The origin of suffering is egoistic craving and attachment. There is a way to the cessation of suffering. This Way is the Eightfold Path: Right Understanding; Right Thinking; Right Speech; Right Attitude; Right Livelihood; Right Effort; Right Mindfulness; Right Concentration. four noble truths reference link So, not only does the buddha agree that "life doesn't have to hurt as much as it does," but he also believes that there is a way to make this so, and goes on to describe it. I don't want to turn this into a discussion of the relative merits of buddhist vs. christian philosophy, but I confess to a bit of skepticism here, as Jesus appears to be ignorant of the details of that which he refers to. I'm going along with PantaRhea... I believe that Jen is sincere and is having a profound experience of some sort. I also believe that this experience may well be divinely inspired, but is this the voice of Jesus? I'm highly doubtful.

My current take on this (subject to change, of course) is that what God created when the first expression was uttered was the potential for everything and anything to exist as form. What time provides is the media within which this expression of God's creation can become manifest. What does God know? I haven't a clue. I suspect God has infinite knowledge of the potential of and for all things, but because the machinery set into motion at the moment of creation resulted in beings with ideas and ego and will and the knowledge and means to impact the universe through decisions and choices made (this being what is really meant by man being made "in god's image" perhaps?), what becomes manifest as form is always changing in ways not directly dictated by God. I don't see God as some sort of cosmic "director" seeing to it that a set script is acted out. I do see God as experiencing all of creation through the created. I believe that in this way God completely experiences the fullness of life through the living nature of all creation; our purpose is perhaps to fully open up to this experience.

Yes, as someone who still does regular zen practice, I have to agree that mindfulness practices appear to me to be very helpful in terms of creating a place within where the voice of God can be heard above the usual noise and chatter. Since coming to know Christ, my way of practice has not changed very much. I still sit quietly in meditation, I still bring myself to mindfulness throughout the day. But I do remind myself, from time to time, that I am in the presence of Christ, and in the presence of God, and I do understand now that in those most mindful of moments it is God's presence that I am feeling. I'm strongly convinced that the buddhist path of selflessness/ego-loss is no different in practice from the Christian path of reconciliation. In order to fully reconcile oneself to God, it is essential that we completely surrender our will and give ourselves up to the will of God. But, we cannot do this as long as we cling to preconceived notions about what it is God wants from us. Only through opening up completely in mindfulness to what is all around us can we see and hear God in everyday things, everyday life. My take on it, anyway.

Published on Monday, December 6, 2004 by CommonDreams.org On Receiving Harvard Medical School's Global Environment Citizen Award by Bill Moyers On Wednesday, December 1, 2004, the Center for Health and the Global Environment at Harvard Medical School presented its fourth annual Global Environment Citizen Award to Bill Moyers. In presenting the award, Meryl Streep, a member of the Center board, said, "Through resourceful, intrepid reportage and perceptive voices from the forward edge of the debate, Moyers has examined an environment under siege with the aim of engaging citizens." Here is the text of his response to Ms. Streep's presentation of the award: I accept this award on behalf of all the people behind the camera whom you never see. And for all those scientists, advocates, activists, and just plain citizens whose stories we have covered in reporting on how environmental change affects our daily lives. We journalists are simply beachcombers on the shores of other people's knowledge, other people's experience, and other people's wisdom. We tell their stories. The journalist who truly deserves this award is my friend, Bill McKibben. He enjoys the most conspicuous place in my own pantheon of journalistic heroes for his pioneer work in writing about the environment. His bestseller The End of Nature carried on where Rachel Carson's Silent Spring left off. Writing in Mother Jones recently, Bill described how the problems we journalists routinely cover - conventional, manageable programs like budget shortfalls and pollution - may be about to convert to chaotic, unpredictable, unmanageable situations. The most unmanageable of all, he writes, could be the accelerating deterioration of the environment, creating perils with huge momentum like the greenhouse effect that is causing the melt of the arctic to release so much freshwater into the North Atlantic that even the Pentagon is growing alarmed that a weakening gulf stream could yield abrupt and overwhelming changes, the kind of changes that could radically alter civilizations. That's one challenge we journalists face - how to tell such a story without coming across as Cassandras, without turning off the people we most want to understand what's happening, who must act on what they read and hear. As difficult as it is, however, for journalists to fashion a readable narrative for complex issues without depressing our readers and viewers, there is an even harder challenge - to pierce the ideology that governs official policy today. One of the biggest changes in politics in my lifetime is that the delusional is no longer marginal. It has come in from the fringe, to sit in the seat of power in the oval office and in Congress. For the first time in our history, ideology and theology hold a monopoly of power in Washington. Theology asserts propositions that cannot be proven true; ideologues hold stoutly to a world view despite being contradicted by what is generally accepted as reality. When ideology and theology couple, their offspring are not always bad but they are always blind. And there is the danger: voters and politicians alike, oblivious to the facts. Remember James Watt, President Reagan's first Secretary of the Interior? My favorite online environmental journal, the ever engaging Grist, reminded us recently of how James Watt told the U.S. Congress that protecting natural resources was unimportant in light of the imminent return of Jesus Christ. In public testimony he said, 'after the last tree is felled, Christ will come back.' Beltway elites snickered. The press corps didn't know what he was talking about. But James Watt was serious. So were his compatriots out across the country. They are the people who believe the Bible is literally true - one-third of the American electorate, if a recent Gallup poll is accurate. In this past election several million good and decent citizens went to the polls believing in the rapture index. That's right - the rapture index. Google it and you will find that the best-selling books in America today are the twelve volumes of the left-behind series written by the Christian fundamentalist and religious right warrior, Timothy LaHaye. These true believers subscribe to a fantastical theology concocted in the 19th century by a couple of immigrant preachers who took disparate passages from the Bible and wove them into a narrative that has captivated the imagination of millions of Americans. Its outline is rather simple, if bizarre (the British writer George Monbiot recently did a brilliant dissection of it and I am indebted to him for adding to my own understanding): once Israel has occupied the rest of its 'biblical lands,' legions of the anti-Christ will attack it, triggering a final showdown in the valley of Armageddon. As the Jews who have not been converted are burned, the messiah will return for the rapture. True believers will be lifted out of their clothes and transported to heaven, where, seated next to the right hand of God, they will watch their political and religious opponents suffer plagues of boils, sores, locusts, and frogs during the several years of tribulation that follow. I'm not making this up. Like Monbiot, I've read the literature. I've reported on these people, following some of them from Texas to the West Bank. They are sincere, serious, and polite as they tell you they feel called to help bring the rapture on as fulfillment of biblical prophecy. That's why they have declared solidarity with Israel and the Jewish settlements and backed up their support with money and volunteers. It's why the invasion of Iraq for them was a warm-up act, predicted in the Book of Revelation where four angels 'which are bound in the great river Euphrates will be released to slay the third part of man.' A war with Islam in the Middle East is not something to be feared but welcomed - an essential conflagration on the road to redemption. The last time I Googled it, the rapture index stood at 144-just one point below the critical threshold when the whole thing will blow, the son of God will return, the righteous will enter heaven, and sinners will be condemned to eternal hellfire. So what does this mean for public policy and the environment? Go to Grist to read a remarkable work of reporting by the journalist, Glenn Scherer - 'the road to environmental apocalypse. Read it and you will see how millions of Christian fundamentalists may believe that environmental destruction is not only to be disregarded but actually welcomed - even hastened - as a sign of the coming apocalypse. As Grist makes clear, we're not talking about a handful of fringe lawmakers who hold or are beholden to these beliefs. Nearly half the U.S. Congress before the recent election - 231 legislators in total - more since the election - are backed by the religious right. Forty-five senators and 186 members of the 108th congress earned 80 to 100 percent approval ratings from the three most influential Christian right advocacy groups. They include Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist, Assistant Majority Leader Mitch McConnell, Conference Chair Rick Santorum of Pennsylvania, Policy Chair Jon Kyl of Arizona, House Speaker Dennis Hastert, and Majority Whip Roy Blunt. The only Democrat to score 100 percent with the Christian coalition was Senator Zell Miller of Georgia, who recently quoted from the biblical book of Amos on the senate floor: "the days will come, sayeth the Lord God, that i will send a famine in the land.' He seemed to be relishing the thought. And why not? There's a constituency for it. A 2002 TIME/CNN poll found that 59 percent of Americans believe that the prophecies found in the Book of Revelation are going to come true. Nearly one-quarter think the Bible predicted the 9/11 attacks. Drive across the country with your radio tuned to the more than 1,600 Christian radio stations or in the motel turn some of the 250 Christian TV stations and you can hear some of this end-time gospel. And you will come to understand why people under the spell of such potent prophecies cannot be expected, as Grist puts it, "to worry about the environment. Why care about the earth when the droughts, floods, famine and pestilence brought by ecological collapse are signs of the apocalypse foretold in the Bible? Why care about global climate change when you and yours will be rescued in the rapture? And why care about converting from oil to solar when the same God who performed the miracle of the loaves and fishes can whip up a few billion barrels of light crude with a word?" Because these people believe that until Christ does return, the lord will provide. One of their texts is a high school history book, America's Providential History. You'll find there these words: "the secular or socialist has a limited resource mentality and views the world as a pie that needs to be cut up so everyone can get a piece.' however, "[t]he Christian knows that the potential in God is unlimited and that there is no shortage of resources in God's earth while many secularists view the world as overpopulated, Christians know that God has made the earth sufficiently large with plenty of resources to accommodate all of the people." No wonder Karl Rove goes around the White House whistling that militant hymn, "Onward Christian Soldiers." He turned out millions of the foot soldiers on November 2, including many who have made the apocalypse a powerful driving force in modern American politics. I can see in the look on your faces just how had it is for the journalist to report a story like this with any credibility. So let me put it on a personal level. I myself don't know how to be in this world without expecting a confident future and getting up every morning to do what I can to bring it about. So I have always been an optimist. Now, however, I think of my friend on Wall Street whom I once asked: "What do you think of the market?" "I'm optimistic," he answered. "Then why do you look so worried?" And he answered: "Because I am not sure my optimism is justified." I'm not, either. Once upon a time I agreed with Eric Chivian and the Center for Health and the Global Environment that people will protect the natural environment when they realize its importance to their health and to the health and lives of their children. Now I am not so sure. It's not that I don't want to believe that - it's just that I read the news and connect the dots: I read that the administrator of the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency has declared the election a mandate for President Bush on the environment. This for an administration that wants to rewrite the Clean Air Act, the Clean Water Act and the Endangered Species Act protecting rare plant and animal species and their habitats, as well as the National Environmental Policy Act that requires the government to judge beforehand if actions might damage natural resources. That wants to relax pollution limits for ozone; eliminate vehicle tailpipe inspections; and ease pollution standards for cars, sports utility vehicles and diesel-powered big trucks and heavy equipment. That wants a new international audit law to allow corporations to keep certain information about environmental problems secret from the public. That wants to drop all its new-source review suits against polluting coal-fired power plans and weaken consent decrees reached earlier with coal companies. That wants to open the arctic wildlife refuge to drilling and increase drilling in Padre Island National Seashore, the longest stretch of undeveloped barrier island in the world and the last great coastal wild land in America. I read the news just this week and learned how the Environmental Protection Agency had planned to spend nine million dollars - $2 million of it from the administration's friends at the American Chemistry Council - to pay poor families to continue to use pesticides in their homes. These pesticides have been linked to neurological damage in children, but instead of ordering an end to their use, the government and the industry were going to offer the families $970 each, as well as a camcorder and children's clothing, to serve as guinea pigs for the study. I read all this in the news. I read the news just last night and learned that the administration's friends at the international policy network, which is supported by ExxonMobil and others of like mind, have issued a new report that climate change is 'a myth, sea levels are not rising, scientists who believe catastrophe is possible are 'an embarrassment. I not only read the news but the fine print of the recent appropriations bill passed by Congress, with the obscure (and obscene) riders attached to it: a clause removing all endangered species protections from pesticides; language prohibiting judicial review for a forest in Oregon; a waiver of environmental review for grazing permits on public lands; a rider pressed by developers to weaken protection for crucial habitats in California. I read all this and look up at the pictures on my desk, next to the computer - pictures of my grandchildren: Henry, age 12; of Thomas, age 10; of Nancy, 7; Jassie, 3; Sara Jane, nine months. I see the future looking back at me from those photographs and I say, 'Father, forgive us, for we know not what we do.' And then I am stopped short by the thought: 'That's not right. We do know what we are doing. We are stealing their future. Betraying their trust. Despoiling their world.' And I ask myself: Why? Is it because we don't care? Because we are greedy? Because we have lost our capacity for outrage, our ability to sustain indignation at injustice? What has happened to out moral imagination? On the heath Lear asks Gloucester: 'How do you see the world?" And Gloucester, who is blind, answers: "I see it feelingly.'" I see it feelingly. The news is not good these days. I can tell you, though, that as a journalist, I know the news is never the end of the story. The news can be the truth that sets us free - not only to feel but to fight for the future we want. And the will to fight is the antidote to despair, the cure for cynicism, and the answer to those faces looking back at me from those photographs on my desk. What we need to match the science of human health is what the ancient Israelites called 'hocma' - the science of the heart ..the capacity to see .to feel .and then to act as if the future depended on you. Believe me, it does.

Sounds about right to me

An excellent quote; thank you for sharing it here. I had an opportunity this weekend to spend some time with my husband's sister and her husband. We are quite progressive, while they are more fundamentalist in their beliefs and outlook. As we spent time talking, I began to realize that, when one sets aside the labels, it becomes possible to tease out common areas of interest and concern. It was only when things came up in converstation which seemed to challenge certain closely guarded notions that things became momentarily tense. In this case, during a conversation with my brother-in-law, there was discussion of education and one of us mentioned that with a college education, kids would learn the essential skill of "thinking for themselves". At this, it was as though a switch had been thrown and we were treated to a ten minute tirade about how God didn't want us thinking for ourselves; God wanted us to follow His Word and that the job of a parent was to guide the child to fear God and in a way that God would approve of, etc. We just listened politely while his face got redder, his hands got shakier, and his voice got louder as he defended his ideology. The outburst culminated in his saying to my husband something like, "I may even be one of the people you hate!" at which point I quietly and calmly said "I don't think he hates anyone". At this, the switch was thrown again... brother-in-law was back in the room; ranting was over. Reading between the lines, I understood that he was really saying that kids need guidance, and he took the concept "thinking for oneself" to mean no guidance at all. It's a black-and-white sort of way of viewing the world, which I think is fairly common among fundamentalists. I'd argue, actually, that there is a certain personality type, or phase of emotional development, or what have you, which clings to black and white thinking out of the need for a sense of security. But I digress. Outside of this outburst (and I'll admit my husband was sort of testing to see where his boundaries were), we had a very pleasant weekend, and we discovered much about one another that I believe pointed to common interests and concerns about the world we live in. He's not a demon. I'm not a demon. Yet as a society we've allowed ourselves to fall prey to the politics of demonization, and we've drawn lines in the sand that represent sides to be taken and defended. I believe that if we can stop looking at the world in this way, and can instead simply listen deeply to one another, we can find ways to work together for common interests. In this way, perhaps the demonic images of one another that we've created in our minds can begin to fade.

This question came to me during the Christmas Eve sermon. Thought it mignt be interesting to ask it here. If Jesus was not the biological son of Joseph, as many believe, how is it possible to make the claim that he is a descendant of David, and thereby heir to David's legacy/throne?

PantaRhea: I'm not exactly sure of your meaning here but it is important for me to have a unified (coherent) worldview. Sorry; this is a clumsy way of trying to say that it seems to me to be human nature to want to roll our personal beliefs into some unified system of thought that we can easily identify as an "ism" or "anity" or by some label which allows others to make ready judgments about what it is we believe, think, do, etc. I suppose from a sociological perspective it feels risky for us to do otherwise because, as humans, we tend to group together, and we form our social groups according to commonalities. In this context, developing a unified, coherent, but atypical world view might be a bit of a social risk. I do agree that a unified and coherent worldview is important... it's important for me too, but what is perhaps equally important to me is remaining open for its growth and change. A stagnant worldview is incomplete; it's always yesterday's news. Yes. By "delusion" here, I guess I pretty much mean this idea that our interpretations are or can ever be complete or wholly accurate. I tend to tread lightly here, reminding myself that to believe that I understand completely "the way things are" is a bit like saying that I understand the will of God, which seems a bit presumptuous. This is similar to what, in zen, is called maintaining a "don't know" mind. I think the best I can hope for as far as "understanding" goes is to open myself up to God and move as best as I can toward reconciliation through grace and humility-- and I have a lot of work to do before I could honestly call myself humble. I honestly can't say what religion I "belong" to... in the sense I spoke of above, I certainly consider myself a Christian. In a more traditional light, I have been baptized, I am a member of a wonderful, progressive congregation, and I go to services. I have a growing love of Christ and what I believe he stood for. However, my view of spirituality continues to be filtered through so much that isn't traditionally Christian, and it's not possible to "put the genie back in the bottle" and pretend otherwise, nor would I want to, so I continue to do all my zen things as well. It seems to work pretty well for me so far-- as long as I'm not attempting to dialog about it too much with traditionalists on either side. I'm quite grateful, though, that I've finally been able to touch Christianity in a meaningful way (or, more properly put, to allow it to touch me).

PantaRhea: I think this (and what follows it) is an excellent summation of how I feel with regard to "truth matters". I have practiced buddhism for many years, and was passionately atheistic for a time, but I began to identify with the teachings of Christ once I understood them to actually stand defiantly outside of any authority, or the codification of religious or institutional tradition (regardless of what the institutions themselves may claim). To my mind, Christ's message is a relatively simple one: Love others as you would love yourself, let no one be excluded from God's table, abhor oppresion, and care for those who are downtrodden. To walk through the world in this manner, as much as is humanly possible, is what it means to me to be Christian. Most of the traditional "markers" of Christian faith are things that I see in a mainly metaphorical context, and in this light they don't particularly conflict with anything I've come to an awareness of through my buddhist practice. Go figure. For me, the "boundaries" between most religions only exist in the mind, as a matter of interpretation, or perhaps of self-identification/projection. Apparently, it feels like risky business for many of us to just let things be what they are without trying to fold all of our views into some unified, labeled system of thought. Having said that, I will quickly add that not everything labeled "religious" by one group or another need have a basis in truth, and there are certainly things people believe as part of their religion which will more properly fall under the heading of religious delusion. I'd argue that much of the mainstream beliefs in all major religions belong here, actually. Going back to the beginning of this post, though, I guess I would say that I currently believe that the teachings on inclusiveness and loving-kindness are possibly the most important or relevant points that Christ had to make. From there, so much else flows. And yes, I do agree that everything is interdependent. Nothing exists in a vacuum. Thanks for the good discussion

hello, surattius I am new to this board and also a new Christian; I recently became a member of the Episcopal Church in the US. From what I've been given to understand, the Episcopalian way of doing things is rather similar to Roman Catholicism, liturgically speaking, but quite a bit more open to individual interpretation, theologically speaking. This is not meant as a "plug" for the Episcopal Church; it's pretty much all I'm familiar with as far as Christianity goes, however I'm pretty liberal and I took to it very quickly. I understand that some parishes may be more progressive leaning than others; mine is extremely progressive but there are conservative Episcopalians, too. It may be worth investigating a few Episcopal (or Anglican) churches in your area to see how you feel about the services. Good luck in your quest! Lolly

BrotherRog: I certainly do agree with that. I have a hard time imagining that anyone could seriously believe that we are actually safer today than we were before Bush came into office. The man has done everything possible to turn the United States into a unilaterally despised entity. The ranks of the radical Islamists grow because their "enemy" is doing everthing they say it is capable of. Duh. It is certainly an interesting (and frightening) time to be an American. Not to mention, eye-opening. As an American citizen, I am glad that today we have the internet; in many ways it's a good thing that the opinions of the rest of the world are also at our fingertips.

As am I. As a new Christian who came begrudgingly to faith through the ministry of a fairly liberal church, I can't say I've ever had this experience, but I can imagine it would be frustrating. I have always felt this way. Still do, actually Even in my "fairly liberal church" I suspect I am a bit of an oddball when it comes to views. I believe in a non-literal and symbolic interpretation of scripture. I strongly believe in the example of the life of Christ, and I believe that much of what he actually taught has been misinterpreted, lost or forgotten. I still have much to learn about the church and about the teachings and life of Christ, but when I concentrate on his life and his example, I cannot deny that he was a great teacher and an extraordinary being.

tea: I agree with you here. I don't think the passion is unimportant, but I wonder if its importance might be somewhat different or more subtle than is often suggested. I think that the truth of Christ's suffering and his willingness to suffer, his understanding of the ignorance of those who caused him to suffer, and his ability to still profess his love through that suffering is profoundly significant. BrotherRog: I looked this up on Amazon. From the reviews, it looks pretty interesting and sounds like it might come close to my own interpretation of the Passion and its significance. Thanks for the recommendation.