somasoul (starting in the middle of the post)

Society, whether black or white, seems to want:
Power
Sex
The appearance of monetary wealth.

The Christian needs to look at these things and find the Godliness in what prompts these desires:

Instead of power; servanthood. (Is that a word? Who cares.)
Instead of sex; mature relationships.
Instead of the appearance of wealth (keeping up with the Joneses); Monetary stability……food in the storehouse you might say.

If you, if we, get our shi….stuff straight and keep it straight, if we do it as a whole, vast social change follows because we alter the fabric of cultural worldviews.

But if you crave power; political power to end racism; monetary power to keep corporations in check…….

If you want sex with a stable partner, not mature relationships…….

If you want to keep pace with Joneses even with organic free-trade goods…

You won’t change anything.

The world ain’t changed by more of the same; even in the name of the greater good.

lukelm:

Somasoul, I’m kind of curious as to how you fit sexuality into the picture of empty vs. life-giving culture. I’m not sure I get the sex vs. mature relationships dichotomy. In my experience, sexual liberation and living a free, open sexual life (yes, definitely in the context of mature relationships and loving others) is essential - maybe even key, in my case at least - to spiritual liberation, and to fully be in touch with one’s own creativity and the healing power one possesses. I, at least, experience my sexuality (not just speaking abstractly here - referring especially to “getting it on”) as an expression of creativity, spirituality, and self-giving. I think you might be getting more at the objectification of bodies/genders that happens in our society, sex disconnected from relationship, in which case you certainly have a point. Yet you categorize “sex” as if it necessarily includes such negativity. I personally think young Christians of all persuasions, radical or conservative, have been fed a lot of falsehoods about sexual life - that sex itself is intrinsically something selfish, rather than a good part of ourselves, intimately tied to all our creative powers, a potential for joyful sharing with others.

somasoul:

luke,

I definetly have a disconnect with you on the issue of sexual relationships and sexuality. I had to read your post twice to get a grasp with what you’re saying and after thinking about it all day I cannot come to terms with it.

Open sexual relationships outside of marriage are clearly not God’s intent. Nor are homosexual relationships. But, I digress, this post is about neither.

The lie is simple: sex with commitment is okay. As with all believeable lies the truth must be included. Commitment is good but……marriage is God’s will for most; celibacy the alternative. Sex outside of marriage was not appropiate in Judaism and was assumed included in statements like “Sexual Immorality”. In 1 Thess Paul tells us to be content with his own wife and not be lustful like a heathen.

Again, my post wasn’t even about that.

My post was simple, a Godly view of sex is the only thing that can disrupt the social norms of culture. Buying into the lie of pervasive or even temporary-long-term commitment sex with a partner justifies any type of sex outside Biblical principals.

“I, at least, experience my sexuality (not just speaking abstractly here - referring especially to “getting it on”) as an expression of creativity, spirituality, and self-giving.” (Does this “getting it on” is okay or vice versa?)

I have no idea what this means, especially as a Christian. The Bible doesn’t support the concept of “sexual liberation=spirituality” and such a concept is largely foreign to traditional or modern Christian thought.

And with all due respect; I tend to think that the classical Christian thinkers, Christian thought throughout history, and the pillars of Judaism and nearly all denominations of Christianity are right on this one. Call me crazy.

TimN:

Song of Solomon 4:1-16 (NIV)

Lover

1 How beautiful you are, my darling!
Oh, how beautiful!
Your eyes behind your veil are doves.
Your hair is like a flock of goats
descending from Mount Gilead.

2 Your teeth are like a flock of sheep just shorn,
coming up from the washing.
Each has its twin;
not one of them is alone.

3 Your lips are like a scarlet ribbon;
your mouth is lovely.
Your temples behind your veil
are like the halves of a pomegranate.

4 Your neck is like the tower of David,
built with elegance ;
on it hang a thousand shields,
all of them shields of warriors.

5 Your two breasts are like two fawns,
like twin fawns of a gazelle
that browse among the lilies.

6 Until the day breaks
and the shadows flee,
I will go to the mountain of myrrh
and to the hill of incense.

7 All beautiful you are, my darling;
there is no flaw in you.

8 Come with me from Lebanon, my bride,
come with me from Lebanon.
Descend from the crest of Amana,
from the top of Senir, the summit of Hermon,
from the lions’ dens
and the mountain haunts of the leopards.

9 You have stolen my heart, my sister, my bride;
you have stolen my heart
with one glance of your eyes,
with one jewel of your necklace.

10 How delightful is your love, my sister, my bride!
How much more pleasing is your love than wine,
and the fragrance of your perfume than any spice!

11 Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride;
milk and honey are under your tongue.
The fragrance of your garments is like that of Lebanon.

12 You are a garden locked up, my sister, my bride;
you are a spring enclosed, a sealed fountain.

13 Your plants are an orchard of pomegranates
with choice fruits,
with henna and nard,

14 nard and saffron,
calamus and cinnamon,
with every kind of incense tree,
with myrrh and aloes
and all the finest spices.

15 You are a garden fountain,
a well of flowing water
streaming down from Lebanon.

Beloved

16 Awake, north wind,
and come, south wind!
Blow on my garden,
that its fragrance may spread abroad.
Let my lover come into his garden
and taste its choice fruits.

The dream was pretty funny, actually. I found myself forced to sit in a kind of revival-style worship service, surrounded by male friends from my hometown, kids my own age. I realized that we were all gay (in my dream), and that this was a service to try to convert us (to holiness and heterosexuality, I guess) The service built to a kind of altar call. A line of young men (who I recognized as older boys from my hometown) were marched in to surround us “sinners” and all assumed a kneeling position of prayer - they were to serve as beacons of virility and heterosexuality and virtue while we responded to the call. Defiantly, I got up and tried to make my way to their line and assume their same posture, to show that they had no exclusive claim on prayer or virtue. One of them got angry and pointed me back to my seat. There, still defiant, I again tried to assume their same kneeling prayer posture. It was very awkward to do on the edge of my chair, and I wasn’t sure I was getting the arms quite right, and I worried that I looked really fairy-ish doing it and that it wasn’t really helping my cause.

This is all related to the draft of a book that I received yesterday. I submitted one of the chapters to it. It’s a compendium of writing about the gay issue in the Mennonite church, with writers from a great variety of perspectives being published here. It should be pretty decent and interesting book (I’ve just leafed through it so far), if you care about the church’s conversation (or lack of) on the issue. My deal is that I’m struck and surprised by the force of emotions that hits me when I really re-engage with the institutional church and its representative voices on these issues. I think I’m just beginning to comprehend how deep currents of something like rage still run in me. My instinct is always toward reconciliation, valuing everyone’s individual story, speaking calmly and warmly to those on the other side of the issue, not letting it divide us, being a peacemaker, etc. Nonviolent principles, generally. I think they’ve born some good fruit through the time I’ve tried to engage things in this way.

And yet here I am again waking up at 5 a.m. with rage dreams when I’m forced to truly encounter the real voices of exclusion in the church… in the case of this book, a group of middle-aged (and older) straight men pontificating on this “issue” and how to deal with “them.” But of course - they’re just calling to mind powerful forces from my past. My anger really isn’t about the exclusion of me now as an adult, but about all the violence that was directed against my child-self and my fragile adolescent self when I was completely open and vulnerable to everything the church had to say. I feel (maybe? it’s my metaphor, anyway) like someone who’s been physically abused forced to put her story up beside the abuser, who’s still mouthing off the exact same words he’s always said, and the words are still entirely about HIMSELF.

Whew. So, my problem is that a large part of me is still trained by being a good Mennonite boy (that’s a GMB) when it comes to such things. And I guess Mennonite boys just suppress their anger - at least that’s what this one has always done. How can such anger ever find its place in the world/life? What is its purpose (assuming that all things are meant to work for good if used in the proper way)? It seems like such a force for violence, for destruction, for breaking relationships. I believe in nonviolence, reconciliation, and relationship-building - and pragmatically consider them the most effective strategies for change. I don’t want to direct anger at individual people and cause them pain or harm. Yet - it’s the voices of individual people who collectively (and mostly unconsciously) create the abusive force that I rage against.

I want to know if anyone else has had such rage/anger in their lives, and how they learned to make it a part of themselves, despite the GMK training. I don’t want to be split in two (that was kind of the whole point of coming out in the first place), and I’m afraid that suppressing it is just a way of disengaging from the issue rather than working toward anything positive. What does someone who believes in nonviolence do with rage?

I’ve been rolling those words over in my head and trying them on for size; young is pretty easy, I guess - more the Anabaptist Radical part. I feel a little different than those who I consider my peers in this stage of faith. If I can attempt to draw a generalization first - a number of us might have been through similar phases of a childhood and teenage faith that was uncomplicated in its ability to answer all questions about the world and God, with reference to the Bible and church teachings/tradition; then for one reason or another entered a deconstructive phase where the internal inconsistencies of that faith, new thoughts and discoveries and ideas, worked a sea change on our souls and worldview; and are now working to recover/recuperate the foundational principles of the faith in a way that we can live with integrity. Maybe not - maybe that’s just me. But anyway… another generalization: one of those foundations that I think YARs (I’m using that acronym already!) in such a time of reconstruction rather consistently build on is the call to a life of faith in action, love in action - building/working/doing to address systems of violence or oppression present in the world. It’s a piece, a strand, of that original uncomplicated faith that has continued to grow.

All of this generalizing is leading up to what I sense as somewhat of a difference in the way this reconstruction has been for me. From the original faith of my childhood for me the piece or strand that has felt most continuous has been the personal relationship with God/the Divine. I felt as a teenager that I had a personal Lord and Savior in Jesus, and this isn’t something that I lost, but something that has rather evolved into an expanding sense of the Divine’s presence. For a way of working in the world toward community, justice, and peace, it seems that a young Anabaptist might return to the very roots and essence of his/her tradition - thus the Anabaptist Radical. But what for me, who returns to the contemplative aspect of faith? Rather than the quest for an essential aspect of my tradition, it has been a great expansion of sources of inspiration, since the essence of contemplation and connection to the divine doesn’t have any boundaries by religion or tradition. The saints and mystics of India have been central to an expansion of my sense of the presence of God, the poetry of Rumi, some medieval Catholic mystics.  I appreciate AngieLederach’s post on her responses in living with liturgy and the mass. Not that I’m considering becoming high church! - although I did cry the first time I was present at mass at the basilca of Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome.

I still feel the call to work for social justice in my life (that’s a struggle right now, as the value system at the medical school I’m at now is centered on intellectual prestige as the only acceptable guide to a career) - but at the center of my spiritual life is a kind of inner song of constant connection and awareness of the eternal, and radical acceptance of all aspects of the world, of life.  Yes, that’s the essence of the path I’m describing: faith that has grown primarily into inner spiritual life, compared to faith that grows into action in the world.
So… maybe what I’m asking is… have I found a different way of being a post-good-Mennonite-kid than Young Anabaptist Radicalism?  Did contemplatives ever even have a place in Anabaptism?

In any case, I feel quite at home on this blog.