Friday, July 24, 2009
Quotation: Fidelity to the Dream
"We each have a dream, a vision of life that corresponds to our convictions, embodies our uniqueness, and expresses what is life-giving within us. Whether altruistic or ignobel, the dream gives definition to our lives, influences the decisions we make, the steps we take, and the words we speak. Daily we make choices that are either consistent with or contrary to our vision. A life of integrity is born of fidelity to the dream." Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel, 196
Monday, July 13, 2009
By "Losing My Religion," "I Will Survive"
My church is in the middle of a great new series right now called "My Generation." We're taking a look decade-by-decade at the music and culture of the 70's - 00's and, more specifically, how that serves as a sort of lens through which people who 'came of age' in those decades view religion.
Unfortunately, due to an extremely annoying summertime sinus problem, I was out of commission last weekend when the topic was the decade with which I most closely relate - the nineties. Luckily we ("we" because the bug eventually got to everybody in our household!) were back on our feet and back at Quest this weekend, though, for the seventies.
Thanks to iTunes, I was able to back up and listen to the 90's service late last week, and it was still fresh on my mind during the 70's yesterday. It was as though I was fitting two talks into the space of one, but it really worked for me personally in a couple of ways. On a simpler level, I'm looking at the decade in which I was born as well as the decade when I went to high school and most of college - a nice way to 'bookend' some major life milestones, in effect. On a deeper level, though, the illustrative songs from the last couple of weeks spoke to me in ways I really didn't expect. From the 90's, the band rocked out to an incredible dead-on cover of R.E.M.'s "Losing My Religion," a song I like and (in a brilliant allocation of brain cells) know all the words to, but that I'd never really pondered in any deep way. Then from the 70's, we were treated to an amazing performance of "I Will Survive" (yep, know the words to that one, too). Put them together, and you get "[by] Losing My Religion, I Will Survive."
Huh?
Well, let me explain. I'm involved right now, as the title of my blog indicates, in a fairly intense seeking process. A major part of that has included trying to discern what it is, exactly, that's acting as a barrier between me and Christianity. And as far as I've been able to figure out, one of my biggest obstacles has been the overarching concept of "religion" and, even more specifically, the various bizarre ways humans have interpreted "religion" throughout the centuries.
Over the past year or so, I've slowly come to realize that much of what I've always used as an excuse to avoid church (various social and political agendas that we really don't need to go into here) have nothing to do with the foundations of Christianity. In fact, as I look back it seems almost painfully obvious how much of my "baggage" was/is the result of these preconceived erroneous notions of what "church" is. Quest has been an amazing place to work through these things.
The closing week of the series on Ephesians touched briefly on the concept of our short life here and what happens once that is over. With eternal survival hanging in the balance, perhaps the most direct route to survive is, in fact, by losing religion and focusing instead on what religion was supposed to be about all along.
Unfortunately, due to an extremely annoying summertime sinus problem, I was out of commission last weekend when the topic was the decade with which I most closely relate - the nineties. Luckily we ("we" because the bug eventually got to everybody in our household!) were back on our feet and back at Quest this weekend, though, for the seventies.
Thanks to iTunes, I was able to back up and listen to the 90's service late last week, and it was still fresh on my mind during the 70's yesterday. It was as though I was fitting two talks into the space of one, but it really worked for me personally in a couple of ways. On a simpler level, I'm looking at the decade in which I was born as well as the decade when I went to high school and most of college - a nice way to 'bookend' some major life milestones, in effect. On a deeper level, though, the illustrative songs from the last couple of weeks spoke to me in ways I really didn't expect. From the 90's, the band rocked out to an incredible dead-on cover of R.E.M.'s "Losing My Religion," a song I like and (in a brilliant allocation of brain cells) know all the words to, but that I'd never really pondered in any deep way. Then from the 70's, we were treated to an amazing performance of "I Will Survive" (yep, know the words to that one, too). Put them together, and you get "[by] Losing My Religion, I Will Survive."
Huh?
Well, let me explain. I'm involved right now, as the title of my blog indicates, in a fairly intense seeking process. A major part of that has included trying to discern what it is, exactly, that's acting as a barrier between me and Christianity. And as far as I've been able to figure out, one of my biggest obstacles has been the overarching concept of "religion" and, even more specifically, the various bizarre ways humans have interpreted "religion" throughout the centuries.
Over the past year or so, I've slowly come to realize that much of what I've always used as an excuse to avoid church (various social and political agendas that we really don't need to go into here) have nothing to do with the foundations of Christianity. In fact, as I look back it seems almost painfully obvious how much of my "baggage" was/is the result of these preconceived erroneous notions of what "church" is. Quest has been an amazing place to work through these things.
The closing week of the series on Ephesians touched briefly on the concept of our short life here and what happens once that is over. With eternal survival hanging in the balance, perhaps the most direct route to survive is, in fact, by losing religion and focusing instead on what religion was supposed to be about all along.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Book Review: Fingerprints of God
Barbara Bradley Hagerty, Fingerprints of God: The Search for the Science of Spirituality. Riverhead, 2009. 336 pp.
In this book, NPR's religion correspondent Barbara Bradley Hagerty sets out to examine the link(s) between religious experience and neurology. Hagerty draws on classic theological and philosophical/psychological works as well as interviews with contemporary researchers into the "science of religion."
It is a personal topic for Hagerty, who opens the book by describing her family's long tradition with Christian Science. Hagerty herself was raised a Christian Scientist, and got her start in journalism with the Christian Science Monitor. Her interest in the mainstream evangelical movement arose from an LA Times article she put together on so-called 'mega-churches,' the background research for which took to her Rick Warren's Saddleback Church in California. It was there that she met a woman who had been "radically transformed" by her encounter what she herself termed the Holy Spirit. This book arose from Hagerty's desire to determine if such a transformation is scientifically possible. To begin, she interviewed many other people with similar experiences, then set out to examine what the scientific community has found.
Unfortunately, the topic itself is so vast and the logic behind it so circular that the journey toward 'proving' or 'disproving' a religious/brain link is doomed from the outset. That "religious" individuals show increased brain activity during meditation and prayer has been demonstrated conclusively. However, the interpretation of the correlation leads to a classic 'chicken or egg' conundrum. Hagerty herself admits as much toward the end of the book, when she discusses whether a propensity toward religious thought makes the brain more susceptible to change, or if genuine change renders the brain more receptive to religious thoughts.
Along the way, however, Hagerty brings to light ground-breaking medical research that's largely unknown outside the professional world. Until very recently, any attempt by a "serious" scientist to examine religion amounted essentially to professional suicide. As the evidence mounts, however, it is becoming more and more obvious that legitimate insights are to be gained by the study of the interaction between these two areas.
In the end, the results are mixed. Hagerty's writing style is every bit as engaging as her reporting on NPR, so fans will certainly not be disappointed. While some sections seem repetitive (especially the interviews with scientists who are replicating one another's findings), the reader still leaves this book with a firm grounding in the most recent literature in a field (call it "neurotheology" for lack of a better term) that's just now beginning to develop. Ultimately, it's a question of faith. And the interviewees whose stories Hagerty set out to prove or disprove already have all the evidence they need.
In this book, NPR's religion correspondent Barbara Bradley Hagerty sets out to examine the link(s) between religious experience and neurology. Hagerty draws on classic theological and philosophical/psychological works as well as interviews with contemporary researchers into the "science of religion."
It is a personal topic for Hagerty, who opens the book by describing her family's long tradition with Christian Science. Hagerty herself was raised a Christian Scientist, and got her start in journalism with the Christian Science Monitor. Her interest in the mainstream evangelical movement arose from an LA Times article she put together on so-called 'mega-churches,' the background research for which took to her Rick Warren's Saddleback Church in California. It was there that she met a woman who had been "radically transformed" by her encounter what she herself termed the Holy Spirit. This book arose from Hagerty's desire to determine if such a transformation is scientifically possible. To begin, she interviewed many other people with similar experiences, then set out to examine what the scientific community has found.
Unfortunately, the topic itself is so vast and the logic behind it so circular that the journey toward 'proving' or 'disproving' a religious/brain link is doomed from the outset. That "religious" individuals show increased brain activity during meditation and prayer has been demonstrated conclusively. However, the interpretation of the correlation leads to a classic 'chicken or egg' conundrum. Hagerty herself admits as much toward the end of the book, when she discusses whether a propensity toward religious thought makes the brain more susceptible to change, or if genuine change renders the brain more receptive to religious thoughts.
Along the way, however, Hagerty brings to light ground-breaking medical research that's largely unknown outside the professional world. Until very recently, any attempt by a "serious" scientist to examine religion amounted essentially to professional suicide. As the evidence mounts, however, it is becoming more and more obvious that legitimate insights are to be gained by the study of the interaction between these two areas.
In the end, the results are mixed. Hagerty's writing style is every bit as engaging as her reporting on NPR, so fans will certainly not be disappointed. While some sections seem repetitive (especially the interviews with scientists who are replicating one another's findings), the reader still leaves this book with a firm grounding in the most recent literature in a field (call it "neurotheology" for lack of a better term) that's just now beginning to develop. Ultimately, it's a question of faith. And the interviewees whose stories Hagerty set out to prove or disprove already have all the evidence they need.
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