Facebook Religion [karen]

When I finally got sucked into signing up for a Facebook account (after first rejecting the pressures several of those email invites from friends), I caved because I secretly thought my little sister really had discovered something cool that I was missing out on. So I signed in, filled out my profile and discovered the wonderful world of writing on walls and tagging pictures and starting poke wars with my friends. This was fun for about 9 days (okay so it was longer, but the “9 days” thing made me feel coolly aloof). Like so many fun and very useful technological inventions, it’s gotten old. But there’s one part that continues to intrigue me.

What I find fascinating is what people choose to enter in the ‘Religion’ field of their profiles. I’ve seen a wide variety of descriptions, from the more average “Christian” to the vague “Liberal” to “God Exists.” There are others that grab your interest because of their uniqueness, such as “Obsession with the Virgin Mary” and the ones that seem to have stemmed from an in-depth philosophical journey, like “I and Thou as Martin Buber describes it” and “Existential Theo-Humanist.” From the mind-numbing, to the simple “Jesus loves me,” Facebook’s religion status has it all. And that’s not even a cross section of the people who are on Facebook, those are just the people on my friend list.

There are also plenty of people whom I know are religious, but who have chosen, for whatever reason, to leave the religion section off of their profile completely. Some, no doubt, think it’s nobody’s business and don’t want their information out on the internet for all to see; some don’t want to be limited to a single category (read: box), and others don’t exactly know how to express the meaning of faith in a few short words. I fall into the latter two categories.

I refrained from simply putting “Christian” because, in the spirit of Donald Miller (whose refers to his religion as “Christian Spirituality” see Blue Like Jazz), I know that that one simple word (category? stereotype?) could be interpreted in far too many ways, most of them negative. Let’s be honest, the term “Christian” is often associated with hypocritical, close minded, anti-abortionist, right-wingers who inflict their religion on unwilling recipients. Though Christians have been given (and have made for themselves) a bad name, Jesus still seems to have a fairly good reputation. I’ve decided that I’d rather be associated with Jesus than with “Christians.” I was going to put “Follower of Jesus” on my profile, but felt that was a little arrogant, or I worried that people would think me arrogant, since I’ve never felt like I was really good at following him, so I simply settled on “Learning how to follow Jesus.” I’m still not completely satisfied with this description, but as I said before, attempting to condense the meaning of your faith into a few words is difficult task. At least, I haven’t been able to do it in a way that I’m satisfied with.

Through Facebook, I’ve come into contact with a lot of people that I knew when I was growing up. The interesting thing is that the (Christian) category I would have put them in back then is sometimes surprisingly different from what I find as their ‘religion’ now.

I found my best friend from elementary school. We attended a Christian school, back when private schools were few and far between in my city. Her religion status says “God and I had a falling out.” That statement brings up a lot of questions in my mind. What happened? Did she ask something of God? Didn’t he answer her? I wonder what she’s gone through. I only know a few things about her life and about a couple of events that may have broken her heart. It seems that something deep and painful must have happened for her to define her religion as a non-relationship with God.

I’ve also come into contact with a few friends who were a part of an excessively conservative home-schooling group. My family joined this group for a few years, but we weren’t in as deep as many others. Looking back, it was quite cultish. Girls had to have long hair and wear skirts, birth control was evil and the “good” families multiplied like rabbits, having 8-12 or more children. Rock music was evil, and we were to be suspicious of everything worldly. Two girls whose families were in a part of this group are single mothers. I found a support group on Facebook where people were recovering from the religious/emotional abuse that they felt they had endured. Many were not religious, or wished they could be, for the sake of their children, but only felt judgment and pain when they even thought about getting near a Bible. One man expressed that he had finally found freedom and acceptance in Wicca. I felt sad for these people, and lucky that my family hadn’t completely bought into all of the principles of this home school group.

It’s interesting that I find myself on quite a different path than many I have walked with in the past. My ‘religion’ status is technically in the same category it has been for most of my life, though many I know, with similar backgrounds, families and education have gone in different directions, and I’m not quite sure how to reconcile this. Please don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking down at them with pitying eyes, pretending I’m a faithful disciple; I’m not lamenting that they have fallen away. I just wonder why I haven’t. What makes the difference? I certainly don’t attribute it to my unwavering faith – it has been far from consistent. If anything, God has been has been holding on to me more tightly than I’ve been holding on to him.

But that presents a problem. Wasn’t he holding on to them too? How is it that I’ve become comfortable with a religion that is truly my own, and not just left to an existence inside the religious structures around me? I’m grateful. I have to be. I’ve been saved from so much, mostly crap of my own making. I suppose there’s still time, and he hasn’t necessarily let them go. I hope that these people who have been hurt by religion or feel abandoned by God will discover that that he’s still present. I also hope that all these ‘religions’ that have pushed me to think, will lead to questions and conversations about faith. I know that I also need to remember not to limit people to the ‘boxes’ on their Facebook profiles. We are more than we seem to be.

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Meaning and Melancholy: Four Music Videos [justin]

When visuals and melody are integrated into each other, something powerful can happen. The story behind a song can be redefined, reaffirmed, or simply deepened by a good video. While there are some great, quirky, upbeat videos with interesting special effects, it’s the more downhearted ones that I remember and stir my soul. In some ironic way I find hope in the melancholy; maybe it’s because when we are in the pit, the only thing have left is hope.

Everybody Hurts – REM
when your day is night alone - hold on, hold on

The lost 90’s, traffic jam, internal thoughts captured, Michael Stipe. Enough said.

Rabbit in Your Headlights – UNKLE featuring Thom York
fat bloody fingers are sucking your soul away

This is a wildcard that was discovered while trying to jog my memory of videos by searching the Internet. Cryptic to say the least, but able to make a connection to anyone feeling like they are getting run over or are simply in the wrong place in life.



Hurt – Johnny Cash
everyone I know goes away in the end / you could have it all, my empire of dirt

Whereas REM’s video displays the shared communal aspect of pain and strife, Cash seemingly makes this his personal end of life confession. Originally by Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails, the images and tone of this cover reaffirms why Johnny is the Man in Black.



Down the Line – Jose Gonzalez
don’t let the darkness eat you up

The consistent acoustic drive mixed with not too many lyrics and coupled with visuals that glimpse at a story, which you want to know more of, makes this video a recent favorite. The dark, realistic symbolism haunts you with thoughts of human nature.

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Ignore the Beasts in the Room [mark]

“Ignore the beasts in the room,” he said, sweeping a single drip of sweat from his forehead. My gaze lingered a moment longer and he repeated, “Ignore the beasts in the room!”

I had been in and out of sleep within the darkest throes of the night. My eyes dipped into a strange world as a dolphin dips into the cool air above the sea. They closed again and I was in a bedroom.

A balding, portly man fished through a case of dirty trinkets occasionally wiping his hands on his tattered t-shirt. Evidence of an earlier meal lay hidden from his sight under the curvature of his stomach. With each swish of his knobby fingers covered in hair through the brown leather case the high posts of the bed on which it sat shook like poplars in the wind. The eyes in the room watched me shift my weight as I stood waiting by the door. I ignored them.

“Aha! I found it.” The man exclaimed, thrusting something small and brown into his pocket. He slammed the case shut, turned the clasps and tossed it onto the floor by the night stand. He quickly pushed past me to get out of the room. Despair slipped off the chair in the corner blinking twice, my heart sank. A hairy fist seized my sleeve and pulled me from the room.

My eyes opened again, still dark, still cold, now 2am …writing down my dream. Why is it that dreams continue to play over and over again as you wake up from them? They elaborate upon themselves as you focus on details. Ignore the beasts in the room… I slip away.

The sound of fur moving and nails clicking on the hard wood floor followed me down the hallway. It was too dark to see the way so I kept close to the man. Click, click, click. In a moment I realize that I am alone and my bare feet are no longer on wood but sand. The sun begins to rise.

The sun begins to rise.

The sun begins to rise casting an orange glow around my feet; the lapping waves are not cold on my toes. As I look in the new light, Despair is gone. The beasts surround me and feel like my long missed cocker spaniel as they gather close. They are warm. These are not the beasts in the room. These are not the familiar beasts I live with. These are the beasts that you must travel to, Comfort and Peace. They are gentle.

The beasts were in my room. Despair sat on the edge of my bed with a quizzical look upon his wrinkled and haggard face. I did not fear him as he had grown accustomed. I rolled over.

The man was there again, it was a new room, he handed me a tiny, brown pull-knob for a cabinet. Twisting the knob onto a screw, I pull letting the light in…

I step out of bed. There are no beasts in the room. Despair is gone and all that is left is to explore the places near and far to find Comfort and Peace.

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Wordless: Four Thousand Words [liz]

I like to write; it is often how I work through what I am thinking and feeling. It might take more than an hour, but in just a few succinct phrases I can sum up the tragedy or elation of the moment. Unfortunately, words aren't always there to greet me and fill the page. So on those days it is better to forget the words, pick up some oil pastels (choose your preferred medium), and draw in which ever way my hands will move. Somehow, from simply drawing lines and mixing color I feel a release, and that is enough for me.

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The Breakfast Club [editor]

Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was that we did wrong. What we did was wrong. But we think you're crazy to make us write this essay telling you who we think we are. What do you care? You see us as you want to see us... in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. You see us as a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess and a criminal. Correct? That's the way we saw each other at seven o'clock this morning. We were brainwashed.

And so it goes. Like the Breakfast Club we are all trying to escape the brainwashing that has ensued us much of our lives. It has come from the media and our peers, from our churches, educational systems, and parents - even from ourselves.

If honest with ourselves, we would say that we feel sub normal too many hours in the day. Normal is the goal. Not normal in a common way, but in a sacred, standard way that branches out in more directions than the Tree of Life.

My wife wisely said the other day that the biggest slap in God's face is to try to be like someone else. Salvation conforms us into the Son of God's likeness - what is happening on another level is the redemption of the Image of God within us. Paradoxically it makes us both unique and similar, connecting us and releasing us into life.

The form of religion leaves us empty. Morality for it's own sake is a facade. Lawlessness eventually shows it's colors as unfulfilling and self-centered masturbation. We've mistaken emancipation and defiled ourselves; we've idolized what we adore and stripped it of its reflective glory; we've defined truth rather than being defined by it.

Truth, Beauty, and Freedom are cut from the same cloth. It is after those things we must progress.

The most excellent and sincere thing we can do is be ourselves; it is to learn and to fail, to strive and be still; to see that we are royalty and convicts - that we need something outside ourselves to truly become ourselves. It is to find out what really matters and pursue those things not only in word but in deed. The truth be told, there is only one trunk, but we have been sold that there are only a handful of important thing branching from its center. This is a lie. There are many profane things in this world, but the Tree of Life is lush and fruitful, with a vast expanse not only reaching to the sky, but also with hidden roots that are grounded in the depths.

Don't settle for convenient definitions.

Think-Write-Create.

Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong, but we think you're crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us... In the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain... and an athlete... and a basket case... princess... and a criminal. Does that answer your question?

Sincerely yours,
The Breakfast Club

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