Anger at God

During recent tragedy one thing that's changed is my conception about being angry with God. To be clear, I'm not sure I can say I have ever been angry with God in my life. Some may ask why, and it's likely because I've never really taken the absolutist, omnipotent, or total control of every worldly detail view of God. I believe God is only omnipotent as they have access to all power, and even then I understand that a belief in a just God obviates the ability to believe in an omnipotent God as certain laws greater than that God must then be followed. I've also believed strongly in free will, and that God's protection or preservation thereof is a necessary condition for their existence, or at least their Godhood. However, I am also convinced in a personal God, one who cares deeply for their children and wishes involvement in their lives (but like any good parent, must limit their involvement to allow independence to develop).

I find the parental analogy very compelling, and this has led me to an interesting thought on being angry with God. A quick search on being angry with God will reveal how many people are uncomfortable with the idea. It feels blasphemous, perhaps, but I think there's one person who's quite OK with people being angry at God and that's God themself.

My wife and I hope to have kids, and that hope's no longer in the distant future, so I've read the occasional article about parenting, discussed it with friends and family, and tried to gain what experience I can watching over others' children. I've learned that a mature adult generally weathers the storm and is understanding of a child's anger, even though it often ends up pointed toward them, without becoming upset or angry about the situation themselves. Good parents understand and allow their children to become angry, they often don't take it personally, and recognize that they may have to accept their child's fury themselves because understanding the larger situation is beyond the child (at least at this point in their development).

Some of this thinking may have come together when a friend of mine who is a mother took a sip of her son's drink, leading to a short spat of crying and yelling, "I didn't want you to do that!" over and over. That moment seemed so childish, crying out wishing an event hadn't happened but not providing any ideas for redress or seemingly unwilling to come to an understanding or acceptance of the painful reality of what's occurred, and yet it also seemed so familiar as I and my loved ones were often doing the same only our yells were, "I wish she hadn't died." This may seem uncaring on my part to compare a child's displeasure and losing out on a sip of milk to the death of a loved one, but from God's perspective it might not be so different, and again I find the similarities of the emotional turmoil experienced eerily similar.

Yes, I'm certainly speaking from a Christian perspective here, but I've tried to ensure I'm speaking in the most general terms. If you're an atheist, agnostic, or otherwise unaligned or undecided allow me to speak to you a little more closely at this time, and if you're one of my Christian or otherwise theistic audience members lend me some latitude for a moment. One of the important roles of God is that of an abstraction, or even verbal shorthand. Some theists like to make much of Einstein's very profound theism, but the God of Einstein probably more resembled the impersonal physical laws pervading all creation through all time than the proverbial sky daddy in which many of them might profess faith. From this perspective anger at God is easy to understand; we're angry at the whims of fortune that brought us to our current place (and hey, like the ancient myth-makers knew when they came up with Thor, Ares, or Sopona it's more cathartic to personify your ill fate than to allow it to persist ethereal).

So I think God completely accepts our anger towards them. That said, anger isn't a healthy emotion. Without even addressing the psychology, it increases blood pressure and depresses the immune system so it is unwise to maintain for long periods of time. I think this is why forgiveness is so powerful, and so important. The concept of forgiveness is often abused, taken to mean we can't treat people or entities with suspicion or coolness when that may be exactly what is deserved, but I think forgiveness starts with releasing the feelings of rancor and hatred toward others. Forgiveness can go beyond that, but often anything beyond that requires penitence on the part of the trespasser, so the beginning may well be the most important part of forgiveness if only because it will be the most often used.

Whether one conceives of God as a loving cosmic Allfather or even as an impersonal cosmic force permeating the universe and seen in its structure and beauty we can accept anger toward God, and perhaps even recognize it as necessary at times. When to move beyond this anger, to forgive God and once again connect with the omnipresent divinity will depend on the individual and is likely to be a difficult task. I pray those in need may do so, and hope these meager thoughts on the matter help.

Your Moral Earth's Magnetic Field

I've heard people talk about how important their moral compass is to them.  What this means can be something different to any different person, but one definition that I think matches most people's conception is, "a natural feeling that makes people know what is right and wrong and how they should behave."  Are the natural feelings we have really what should make us know what's right and wrong?

Doing what's natural may not be a terrible basis for morality, but it's not a good one either.  We have a number of pack animal and cooperative instincts that guide us toward some caring and concern for our fellow man (and remember man is gender neutral in this context).  These also create an aversion toward malice in many contexts, which is also good.  Our instincts don't stop with these, 'love your neighbor' drives though.

Being a pack animal leads to a set of instincts, and while some of those are positive like what's stated above others are decidedly negative.  It leads to a tribalism, probably due to competition with other packs.  We protect our own, but those who aren't are own are usually fair targets for whatever we can dish out.  This is why looking at history we only seem to have been fighting against racism, sexism, or similar discrimination for about a century or two, and to some even that's being quite generous.  There's also significant drives to personal status and individual gain.  We want the pack to be strong, but we also want to be the head of the pack (or at least be very secure about our position in it) and there's a good chance we're willing to trade the good of our group for a high position in it, too.  This is why children throw tantrums, politicians and important businessman are as willing to admit mistakes as they are to part with teeth, and people gossip about the shortcomings of acquaintances.

This leads me back to the idea of a moral compass.  Truthfully, I think it's a good analogy as long as we remember one thing: a compass doesn't operate in a vacuum.  A compass is a magnetized needle set on a spindle (or sometimes in other ways, such as suspended in a liquid).  It points to the north because it aligns itself with the Earth's magnetic field.  In morality, this leads to the question that might be much more important than how is your moral compass, but what is your moral Earth's magnetic field.

What things external to ourselves help us understand what is moral and what is not?  Is it divine scripture?  Public opinion and associated feelings of dignity or shame?  Articulate and interesting discussions on ethics?  All of these have flaws which must be examined and guarded against and all have certain merits as well.  Compasses can be disrupted by anything that produces strong magnetic fields, like high electrical current.  Precise navigation may also require an adjustment between magnetic north and 'true north' since the Earth's magnetic poles aren't perfectly aligned with her north and south poles.  Just like a compass will not point true in a lightning storm or around power lines we should learn where our moral compass may fail to point us true and why if we want to stay true to our moral north wherever we go.

Sacred Sexuality

"Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine." taught Jesus in the sermon on the mount. Casting pearls before swine is one of those phrases that floats around today but is seldom given the consideration it deserves. On my mission I felt like I was walking a precarious line between sharing the gospel and casting pearls before swine.  But anyway I'm not writing now to talk about sharing the gospel. I've wanted to write for some time on sex, and this scripture came to mind when thinking what to write.

Sacred sexuality is one of those new-age sounding things that usually gets thrown around by those that want to talk about how great sex is.  That somewhat more snide than I intended remark aside, I think sacred sexuality is entirely real.  Sex is something sacred, and that's why in my life it's reserved for marriage (which is also holy).  Often in Christian circles the holiness of sex is directly related to the ability to bear children, and while I think we should hold the same gravitas for the acts of creating life as we do to destroying it I don't feel that this is what makes sex something holy.

So what is it that makes sex sacred, then?  The words sacred and holy both derive from the idea of setting something apart, reserving something for a higher purpose, or dedicating something to a greater cause.  Sex for me is something reserved for marriage.  That imbues it with the high purpose of strengthening marital bonds and by extension the family.  That makes sex a way to study selflessness and caring for another (without abnegating one's own needs or desires in the process).

I own a book of erotic myths and legends and read one together with my wife the other night.  The one we read was (perhaps a little bit surprisingly) rather tame with almost no mention of sex but rather an extended poetic meditation on love, longing, desire, loss, and union.  Although when reading we might have been looking to partake together in something a little more saucy, I'll also say I actually really liked this little legend of a lover comforting himself that his "beloved other" was not truly lost because they had become one soul.  Sex is a part of that, and that makes it sacred.

Mathematics is a Godly pursuit

I had this thought after tutoring one day and I've been meaning to write on it for a while.  Many friends and family of mine will be familiar with my love for mathematics and my feelings of anathema toward the apparently acceptable innumeracy of current American culture at large.  While there are numerous arguments on the basis of how useful mathematics is, what a powerful tool it is and how important it is to understand statistics (such as opinion polls or study results) there is another argument to be made.  Like we appreciate art, literature, and other humanities for their inherent beauty and the way they open our eyes to new ways of seeing the world, so should we appreciate mathematics similarly.

Mathematics teaches us (or can if taught and learned with aplomb) humility.  The superior attitude of some of those capable with numbers may seem to contradict this, but this may emulate from the sad way in which mathematics is taught.  An excellent author about mathematics in culture, John Allen Paulos, has often pointed out that math is taught and subsequently perceived as being about computation.  He says that this is similar to saying writing is about typing, and reminds me of a professor of mine saying, "To say computer science is about computers is like saying astronomy is about telescopes."  I will endeavor to avoid further digression about mathematics education, but will point out that when we tell people that they can find a certain answer following a couple basic steps we should not be surprised when they come to believe that they understand everything.

Mathematics is a harsh mistress.  When not teaching algorithms and their application (not a study of algorithms, which is rather enlightening, but instead essentially programming students in a manner shockingly similar to the way a programmer programs a computer to do specific computations), mathematics is about logic.  For the few reading that have actually done proofs, I feel this is a core of mathematics.  Working through with rigor new knowledge and insights from a handful of basic, known, accepted axioms.

What I learned taking a basic concepts of mathematics class (which with a name like that you may be surprised to learn was a junior level college course) is that this process is unforgiving.  One must be utterly cautious and unrelentingly precise.  One must avoid at all costs projecting one's desires, feelings, and possibly even intuition onto their work.  Instead one must choose to strictly follow what is known and established, to do what the axioms and previously derived theorems allow, and nothing more, and to consider every case and possibility

It is this, that makes me say mathematics is a Godly pursuit.  When I say mathematics is godly I mean that it is greater than ourselves.  We must be willing to practice humility and recognize laws that are beyond our instincts, hearts, and preconceptions.  The laws of mathematics do not bend to our desires because we feel they should.  Mathematics isn't a vehicle for our own ideas or agendas, but rather a manner in which we examine how we came to these and whether or not they require additional scrutiny.  Mathematics brings us to truth that we discover for ourselves but are independent form who we are.  Mathematics is bringing something beyond us and greater than us into ourselves.  This is what religion (like mathematics, when it isn't perverted into a degenerate form that is only good for frustrating students or wrongly justifying our preconceptions) does for us as well.

I will end repeating the refrain that mathematics teaches us humility, and this is what makes it at least nigh on divine.  To learn and to do mathematics is to seek knowledge and learn how little we know, what the limits are to our knowledge, and how easily we can err.  Is not such a pursuit godly?

Ramadan: Day 10 (written on 21st of August)

As a sort of spiritual experiment I've been keeping Ramadan this year. Today was day ten, and I thought I should record some of the thoughts and experiences I've had so far. What truly inspired me was my morning prayer today. Mornings in general have been an interesting part of Ramadan since I usually sleep in well past sunrise. I still have, often enough, but to eat before the daily fast begins I've woken up early once or twice. Once before today was a very nice experience, but more frequently I've woken up, eaten a breakfast, and then gone back to sleep. Today a woman I've been getting to know also wanted to begin waking up early in the day, so we made plans to call each other in the morning. I talked to this fine woman while eating a modest breakfast yogurt and oats (and some leftover brownie too) and watching the sunrise. One of the topics of discussion was the morning. The morning is different. Evenings and nights are still very active for modern Americans. Mornings, especially as early as before sunrise, are very quiet and still. This made it a nice time to speak with a new friend, and it has also been an ideal hour for my introspection. Watching the sunrise has been very nice. First just because it's so novel to me, seeing as I usually loath being up before the sun is, but more importantly just to appreciate nature's beauty.

This is the second time I've prayed during sunrise over Ramadan and it's been spectacular both times so I should really work to do so more often. Today was particularly powerful. These prayers are great because after waking up and eating breakfast and then watching the sunrise I've shaken off the tiredness and am alert enough to feel the Spirit of God and speak meaningfully with Him. I did so today near the end of the sunrise, I knelt down for prayer and when I rose up the sun had unhidden itself from behind the horizon and sunlight spilled over me as I lifted myself up from prayer. I thought this a exquisite symbol for the Holy Ghost's presence that I also experienced.

One of the things about prayer, faith, and ritual is that mundane things in life become holy. The sunrise, while always lovely, today was a testimony of God's greatness, power, mercy, care, and love. My fast has been food only, rather than a full on traditional food and water fast, making the water I drink a sacred reminder of the Living Water which slakes my thirst for meaning, justice and righteousness in life. I hope to continue and improve upon these experiences as I continue Ramadan.