The C-word

For five years I walked in the Philly “Race for the Cure” in memory of my sister-in-law’s mother, Jane. She was someone I really liked and spent time with when she was dying. When I walked I saw t-shirts announcing people who were there in memory of someone who had died. There were also special shirts for survivors. By profession, I’m a nonprofit fundraiser and I respect the astounding financial success of the Komen folks, but for me as an individual, the event became too big and commercial for something that I experienced as personal. And, by the way, I am totally sick of all the pink shit. Give it a rest

In the nineties, I was a hospice volunteer at a cancer center for about three years, also in honor of Jane and my cousin, Robin who died from AIDS. I learned from that volunteer work that cancer is just not the worst way to go. I also learned that the most difficult deaths were usually due more to troubled relationships, or lack of any, than from physical pain. And the greatest pain at the end of life is usually from regret or guilt.

As I have written before, I reject what I consider the juvenile theology of a god fussing about every detail of my life. In fact, I had a lengthy discussion with a woman just a couple weeks ago who asked me to pray for the Eagles football team. I wish I was kidding. I wish she hadn’t been serious. I did tell her I thought god didn’t give a crap about football. Then she launched into a lecture on how sports contributes to our society and how praying for football helps bring people to god or some other such nonsense.

Last week I was in a meeting at a church exploring grant opportunities related to food security, i.e. feeding the hungry. I was talking to a woman who told me she chose this mission project in her church to honor her 42-year-old daughter who died from breast cancer. She told me how it hurts her to see those survivor-women celebrating. She was not being petty, I assure you. She just said, “I don’t know why God took my daughter.” We agreed that there are many mysteries in life that we just can understand. Just yesterday a close friend was diagnosed with MS and she is the sole support and caregiver of her mother with Alzheimer’s and her special needs son. No indeed, life is just not fair.

I do believe in cause and effect, and in karma. Though not the cause of every bad thing, karma can be social, with a lot of us paying for the sins of many before us. I think some cancers in our modern world are the result of our modern world. It could be the long-term result of additives in food, off-gassing from new carpet, years of vehicle exhaust in the atmosphere, and better examples my science-y friends can name without blinking. I accept the invisible, long-term consequence resulting in one in three Americans having a cancer diagnosis in their lifetime. Since I have two siblings, odds are, it will be one of us.  And if it means, not unlike Passover, it’s me and my siblings are passed-over, then I accept. And although bargaining with the Universe is probably pointless, when times are tough the desperate start negotiating. I’ll take one for the team. I don’t have kids and I’m healthier than my sibs, so I can handle the fight. That’s just pragmatic.

For right now, I don’t know if I am sick. The spot of the biopsy is sore, so every time I move wrong and I feel the soreness, it reminds me and I wonder if I have cancer. So many times in our lives we find ourselves in that place of not-knowing. This is a sacred space. I am not experiencing fear. Not because I am courageous because I am not. Not because I believe in a personal god. I do not. I am not afraid because I am lucky enough to have access to health care. That said, I am very afraid of it bankrupting me with my $6,000 a year deductible.

What I find so deeply disturbing, and what does bring tears to my eyes, is this raw and profound reminder of my vulnerability. Most of us function with an assumption of control. I think it is how we keep going, being productive, maybe even happy. Deep down, I know this is an illusion. Better than anyone, the Buddhists try and teach this to us. But I am very Western and want to believe I am the boss of me. Well, clearly I am not.

The other reaction haunting me is how few activities seem important right now. I can tell you I surely don’t give a damn about the dishes. Then there’s work. Normally I find it satisfying – at least some of the time. Right now I feel like I’m raising money to buy life rafts for the Titanic and it has already set sail. (Don’t over analyze the metaphor because I don’t know if the Titanic is me, or the job, or it’s all a mood swing.)

It is uncomfortable, but I am working to honor this sacred time and space by recognizing my fragile humanity. This place of not knowing is sad and lonely. Don’t misunderstand me, I am lucky to have numerous, wonderful friends who have already been supportive; but ultimately, this experience is a solitary one. I have been forced to stop and accept my lack of control, even over my own body. It is the lack of power over something so important and personal as my own body that has me unhinged. Have I been betrayed by the very vessel that makes this human experience possible?And where is God in all this? That answer is only relevant when you answer that for yourself. I do believe there is a Universal force of love. And I believe those whom I have loved and who have died might just be on the other side looking out for me. I hope so. But cancer is not god’s fault nor up to god to cure.

The irony nearly escaped me that this is “Breast Cancer Awareness Month.” I hope to celebrate by not having it. But while I’m in the place of not knowing, I will accept my fragile humanity with as much grace as I can muster, with my little dog at my side, and some really good human beings who have my back, not the least of which is my spouse. If you read this and find yourself, for any reason, in that place of solitude and not knowing then I can only tell you I get it and wish you peace. So on this Yom Kippur, Shalom to folks of all faiths or none. #

Dear Mother God

Candice Bergen was in a very smart sit-com, “Murphy Brown” (CBS 1988-1998). There was an episode where some of her acquaintances joined a support group for men. In response to this revelation she said something like “What do you do? Sit around and talk about how hard it is to have all the best jobs and the most money?”

I have written about patriarchy in previous columns and I’m certainly not finished ranting about the organizational and political evils of it. But there is The_Creation_of_Adamanother level that is destructive at a personal level I haven’t addressed before now. This came to mind for me most clearly when a young, white, male, gave a sermon on God the Father a few weeks ago. Most likely he was well-intentioned, but no male has the right to talk to me about God the Father as a good thing. I can’t see it as anything other than oppressive, or at least an ancient characterization of an energy or being that should be bigger than misogyny and gender stereotypes.

For the record, I practice Christianity, though I am frequently embarrassed or infuriated by the many who claim they have the only right interpretation. I find the Episcopal Church the most liberal, both socially and theologically, but with a structured liturgy that centers me. In spite of that, there is not a single mass that I am not deeply hurt by the male dominant language.

There are probably some of you out there saying, why not just walk away from that religion? For many people that is the choice they make, and I don’t fault them. Think of it this way: Most women in this country earn about .77 to every $1 earned by a man. Of course it’s not fair. We don’t stop working, though we do change jobs to try and achieve parity. In general, most of us keep trying to level things out in our own way. Unfortunately, religion is not always better than the prevailing culture. Every day we see examples of folks rising to be better, and those exploiting religion for personal or political gain. That is not new.

After that “God the Father” sermon, I promised myself to make a consistent effort to convert any pronoun possible to neutral or female in every service including every song. I’m a slightly loud soprano, so my personal statement does not always go unnoticed, but that’s not why I do it. It is like a meditation for me. I don’t feel as excluded and it is not as hurtful as the throw-back male pronouns.

What I am asserting is that if you spend your whole life praying to God the Father, and you hold Him as an example of the most revered, then how do you not at some level, assume men are better? It is inevitable. Now imagine the hymn “God of Our Fathers.” A very macho hymn. Not so much when I change the lyrics to God of Our Mothers. Yeah, singing that the one turned a few heads. I belted it out, too.

Now I do allow that Jesus was male and I retain those male pronouns. You know what would have happened if Jesus was a girl? Not a damn thing. There would be no Christianity. She would have been irrelevant. Maybe ignored or married-off with a man taking credit for Her work. Instead, Jesus defended outcasts and treated women like human beings. He challenged traditionalism, including patriarchy, and they killed him for it.

I mean no disrespect to my own human father, but I have never in my entire life felt comfortable with the God the Father ideology. It just never felt right to me. So my prayers are to Mother God. It has reshaped my spirituality. I don’t feel like an outsider in my own religious practice. As I have said before, I don’t believe in a personal god, but I practice my faith like I do because I don’t know how else to keep it real. My contemplation is with Mother God and more like connecting with a maternal energy who has a “Star Trek” kind of attitude toward humanity with Her own “Prime Directive” of non-interference.

I have included this before, but not for a long time. I have rewritten Christianity’s “The Lord’s Prayer.” This prayer is in every Episcopalian and Roman Catholic mass. Many Protestant churches use it throughout the church year. No one’s using my version, but you can if you want.

Mother and Father
In heaven and earth
Making all things sacred.

Your richness fulfilled
Your preference for us
On earth the same as heaven.

Your providence meeting
Our earthly needs
Teaching forgiveness by forgiving

Guide us from fear
Protect us from harm
That we not forget all is connected.

Your Spirit
Our Spirit


In the meantime, I will be expressing gratitude to Mother God for the many blessing I enjoy and pray She can exert influence on the Syrians to show each other mercy, in spite of Her Prime Directive. -J.B.

The Dark Night of the Soul

In the seventies, Dustin Hoffman played Jack Crabb in the movie, “Little Big Man,” as a white man raised happily by Native Americans who took him in when a different tribe murdered his parents. As Hoffman’s character said, “I wasn’t just playin’ Injun, I was living Injun.” While there are many ways to view his story, most often I think about it from the perspective of Jack Crabb getting crummy breaks, failing, and stumbling from one lifestyle into another. For some of us regular folks, doesn’t that kind of sum-up life?

I recently went to a memorial service for a popular teacher who was also instrumental in creating a successful drama program. Somewhere in mid-life he got born-again, so the seemingly never-ending memorial production was steeped in evangelical Christian rhetoric. There were three clergymen (men, of course) and it seemed we were never getting out of there. The last “benediction” (which meant more comments from clergy) started after we’d been there three hours.

Before the popular teacher went through his born-again phase (which I’m told lasted a long time but was eventually modified) there was a time in his life when I knew him to be a seeking person. You know, considering all the heavy life questions like the purpose of life, and the usual God questions. This was the brief period of time when I found him the most interesting. He was asteeple5_edited-2 seeking, humble, curious, feeling human being.

Ironically, it was at this very time in high school that I deliberately abandoned fundamental Christianity. Before that I used to carry my Bible around school every day – and actually read it. One day, I just stopped. I remember thinking, “This isn’t helping me. I’m tired of being depressed.” I did not permanently dismiss all of Christianity, just the version I was force-fed from birth, but I did leave organized religion alone for many years. As Jack Crabb said, “That was the end of my religious period.”

I sat at this memorial service thinking, “I wish I knew the guy they are all talking about.” The adoration was not less than epic. But I just didn’t see the same person they did. You could assess it as my flaw of being too critical. Maybe. When I think about him, I remember that period of time when he was searching and asking himself difficult questions. I was never among his favored protégés, so my perspective is that of the spectator. From my seat in the auditorium of life, I remember feeling disappointed that he so quickly abandoned seeking for easy answers.

There is something of potential great value in the dark night of the soul and it warrants careful consideration. When we feel lost or isolated, it is uncomfortable and painful. But when we are in that place we can see things, especially about ourselves, that are more difficult to see from the vantage point of lazy contentment. And even worse, when we adopt an ideology, we start reshaping our observations and thoughts to fit those notions, therefore cutting ourselves off from other possible understandings. In that mindset, I have watched people treat long-time friends with callous disregard because they got themselves a shiny new religion and new friends with it.

I understand what it feels like to struggle. Often when we are in that space we spend most of our mental energy trying to squirm free of the discomfort. I am suggesting that as difficult as it is, there is the opportunity to just stay in that uncomfortable space a bit and reflect. Breathe. This could be the angst before the break-through to a better direction, or thought, or understanding. And I will grant you that you don’t want to get stuck in that dark night. That’s called depression.

Respect the dark night of the soul. I think we should not be in such a rush to push out of it. Isn’t that really what Christianity’s lent and Islam’s Ramadan are all about? These two annual religious observances schedule a dark night of the soul in order for the faithful to take some time to reflect and reboot. Discomfort is built-in and used as a deliberate catalyst. What can we do differently? How can we make the future different than the past?

Any trip back to high school is uncomfortable for me, even seeing former classmates. I was recently humbled and saddened to learn I said some typical smart-ass thing once in French class that hurt a classmate. (Though I’m amazed my French was that good.) Now I haven’t been in high school since the seventies, so that’s a long-time for her to carry around the hurt I instigated. I do know that while I enjoy my own commentary on life, I just don’t need to impose it on others, and certainly not recklessly. I am grateful she gave me the opportunity to apologize. I’m not sure I’m any more careful with my comments, but I hope so.

Every life has a theme and a lesson. A lesson for the individual, and a lesson for the rest of us. The memorial service offered story after story. Good stories. Nice themes. The stories that I remember weren’t going to come-up. They are reserved for a few friends, in a small circle of people who know me and still like me. The stories are impacted by where you’re sitting and your view. French class? Memorial service? Lost in high school? It depends if you’re inside looking out or outside looking in. And if the lights dim, or the night seems darker than usual, just take your time. The dark night of the soul is a holy place. -J.B.

So many guns, so much time

Ralphie is about 12 years-old, a rescue cat from my local shelter. He’s been with me four years and has established himself as the boss. He was astounded that I apparently went somewhat insane and adopted a dog. Charlie is about 10 pounds, so Ralphie outweighs him even though they are about the same height. I have integrated numerous animals as a family over the years, so I am optimistic. What amazes me is that they manage to posture with each other, hissing and yipping, without anyone drawing blood. I don’t allow them firearms, so we have that going for us.

At the time of this writing, the latest mass shooting was of police officers in Dallas, TX on 1468100638-open-carryJuly seventh. (It’s even likely that before I’m finished editing there will be another.) Texas is considered an “open carry” state allowing citizens to walk around in public with a visible gun. When I was in Texas in December, more than one restaurant had a sign that they didn’t allow guns. I didn’t feel better. That they needed such a sign was upsetting. On July ninth, Dallas mayor was quoted in the Dallas Morning News saying: “It’s logical to say that in a shooting situation, open carry can be detrimental to the safety of individuals.” Oh really? I have to ask, how’s that open-carry working out, Texas?

Dallas Morning News

Back in January, BBC News online reported that way back in 2012 in the US (the most recent comparable data available), “the number of gun murders per capita was nearly 30 times the UK.” In 2015 alone, there were 64 school shootings, including incidents with shootings that did not include murder. I hope we are not so de-sensitized that we can’t see how outrageous school shootings are.  Here’s another nugget from the BBC: So many people die annually from gunfire in the US that the death toll between 1968 and 2011 eclipses all wars ever fought by the US. In that same article the BBC reported that the National Rifle Association boasted that after the Sandy Hook shooting (elementary school), its membership surged to five million.

BBC gun statistics

These statistics (and there are more) demonstrate that Congress has failed, capitalism without any regard to the common good has failed, and we voters (especially non-voters) have all failed miserably. It is time to not let another day go by without writing to your federal senators and representatives and let them know that if they don’t pass gun control legislation, you will work to fire them by campaigning against their re-election. Write an e-mail. Write a letter. Write it now.

And you know who should be leading the charge? Clergy. For those who speak to their congregants weekly, there is the consideration of whether to offer empathy (pastoral care and support), or whether to challenge the listeners to be better human beings (or more devout, if you are more comfortable with that word). And many, many, clergy simply enjoy the sound of their own voice. I worked at a seminary once and I can tell you that there are many different reasons individuals pursue religious leadership – and not all of those reasons are good ones.

There are very few churches showing strong leadership, but I would especially challenge Roman Catholics. I drove past a parish last week that had a sign in the front yard about how many abortions there were last year. I’m sure they used the word murder somewhere on that sign. I can’t find a way to understand why they are so passionate about their perception of “murdered” fetuses and so very mute about everyday gun murders of walking around realized human beings.

After the previous recent shooting in Orlando (one actually loses track), the Episcopal bishop of Philadelphia did call for gun control. I also read a Tweet about a Kansas bishops requiring that no guns are allowed in Episcopal churches, though I remain astounded that anyone has to make that a policy.

Message from Philadelphia Episcopal bishop

Kansas bishops ban guns from churches

Why are the religious zealots so noisy about policies and laws on women’s health and sex but so very quiet about gun control? I’m not saying there are no voices, kudos to the Quakers, I’m saying that if the majority of religious people got as activist as what we saw in civil rights movement, things would change. And I am not the first person to say that they are indeed related.

I read a Facebook post super-imposed over a white model that said: “How about all lives matter. Not black lives, not white lives, get over yourself no one’s life is more important than the next. Put your race card away and grow up.” These kind of comments can only come from white privilege, insensitivity, and ignorance. Look at who has been killed, who has been doing the killing, and who is in jail. The following link is a very in-depth story about the social conditions that have contributed to not only gross incarceration, but also the disproportionate incarceration of minority males. This is not white liberal guilt speaking, it is data. From the article: “The United States now accounts for less than five percent of the world’s inhabitants – and about 25 percent of its incarcerated inhabitants.

The Atlantic on mass incarceration – a must read

Not only do “Black Lives Matter,” there needs to be a whole lot more conversation on white privilege and classism across all races, because ain’t nobody likes being poor. Very often the fear of poverty is acted out in disdain for the poor. And clearly, for many people in this under-educated, unenlightened country, the response to mass incarceration is taking up arms, instead of considering root causes and social failures. Stop the madness.

I’m tired of reading these stories and more so of watching them online and TV. I especially hate writing about this. But I consider it my moral responsibility to challenge myself and you to write some damn e-mails, at the very least. I vote consistently and frequently campaign for a variety of candidates, and I will do more. But it’s not enough because systematic injustice is inevitable when capitalism is absent morality. Democracy without grassroots active involvement becomes oligarchy, which is pretty much where we have arrived. Religious organizations that are mute on social pathology, well that’s pre-World War II Germany when the Christians were silent while Jews were marginalized, persecuted, then murdered. I really didn’t want to mention The Donald here, but when a leading presidential candidate becomes more popular by spewing hatred against Mexicans and Muslims, we really are living in pre-WWII Germany. The front page of Sunday’s Philadelphia Inquirer said, “This is not who we are.” Really? Apparently it is.

I am left asking the same question so many others have asked: how many more shootings? How does that photo above not look both preposterous and terrifying? There are so many guns and it seems no urgency to change that. No urgency. Why? How many more shootings? How many more deaths? I’m calling all clergy (well, truthfully, I doubt they will read this, but you can tell them) to talk about gun control and keep talking about it until we have it. -J.B.


Don’t Pray for Me

Usually in these columns, I build up to some conclusion, but this time I’m starting at the end. Prayer is what you want it to be. Perhaps prayer is a connection, like my cat sitting next to me. (Thanks, Ralphie.)Ralphie Even atheists can find their spirit resonating with music, or maybe nature, in a way that is not just pleasurable, I think, but lifts us out of ourselves and our everyday existence. That is how I would define spiritual. When by intention or experience, we step outside of our daily worries to connect with the universe, I think we can call that a prayer.

Some people define prayer as the petitions they present to an all-powerful and interested God. I would liken that approach to wishing on a star – not that there’s anything wrong with that. When I was in the process of becoming Roman Catholic (I am now Episcopalian), I had some difficulty sorting out culture Jiminy Cricketfrom dogma from theology. One of the things the nuns talked about that I knew was strictly cultural was that when you go into a chapel for the first time you can make a wish. I saw it as a Jiminy Cricket sort of thing. At the time I was working two full-time jobs, and it follows that I had no social life. It was about December 17th and in spite of the fact that I would be working until at least 7:00 p.m. and the previously stated realities, I wished for a New Year’s Eve date. Admittedly a self-serving fantasy, I viewed it as a throw-away request. Surely God had better things to do. I didn’t even take my own wish seriously. I told no one, and forgot about it.

At about 6:45 p.m. New Year’s Eve, I had sent all my staff home and was tending to final work that I could handle alone when a man I had previously only spoken to casually asked me to accept an extra ticket to Penn and Teller because he had a friend who cancelled. This is the story that I tell my nieces under the theme of ‘God has a sense of humor.’ I had a lovely New Year’s Eve and one or two other dates, then found out he was gay. Well, at least now I knew God’s idea of a perfect date for me.

About those petitions…Though I don’t really believe in a personal god, in times of duress, I think we all wish we had a super-power from whom we could request intervention or relief. In that I am no different from anyone else. And in spite of the fact that I don’t think things work that way, when I am in the middle of a struggle, I do in fact yearn for not only relief but an acceptable resolution, and maybe even a rescuer. Who doesn’t? What I think is crucial to human contentment and spiritual insight, is what we expect during the ‘dark night of the soul’ and after. What I’m suggesting is to consider how we view prayer and what we expect as a result of prayer. Why? Because I’ve had too many people tell me they would pray for me instead of actually helping me. Also, I want to reconcile for myself what may seem like the hypocrisy of wishful prayers that are an understandable response to loss, sadness, fear, worry, and despair.

In this capitalistic society, when someone exploits your need to be employed to fulfill their ego’s hunger to exercise power, it is oppression. There are a lot of people longing for relief from oppression, whether it is external like workplace bullies, or internal like clinical depression. As for me, I have had a lot of very bad bosses who have made my work day miserable, and some eventually put me out of work. (I know I am not alone with these problems.) One day on the train commute to such a job when I was feeling overwhelmed by the dread of the coming workday, I looked out the window to see the most spectacular sunrise I had ever seen in my life. The clouds had formed in a way that created rays of brilliant colors that I am unable to fully describe. In that moment, surrounded by other apparently oblivious commuters, I felt that the vibrant and fleeting sunrise view was a gift just for me. It produced in me such a sense of joy that I carried it with me the rest of the day, and in fact I still remember it clearly even though it was about seven years ago. If my yearning for a better situation was a prayer, then that sunrise was an answer. And in that moment, the bliss I felt was more powerful than the relief from getting a new job, which I continued to pursue and did eventually land.

It would be an oversight to discuss prayer without addressing suffering. I have ended the old year and DalaiLamastarted the new year reading The Art of Happiness (His Holiness The Dalai Lama and Howard C. Cutler, MD) which weaves lengthy conversations with the Dalai Lama into prose. Reading so much from His Holiness on suffering and pain has expanded my understanding of Buddhism. I have always had difficulty with what was my perception of Buddhism’s casual acceptance of the bad stuff in life in the old ‘life is suffering’ phrase. I heard it as a trite aphorism. Now I see that by accepting that there is loss and pain for everyone, my suffering is neither unique nor unfair. That is not to justify oppression which is unfair and unethical behavior, but suffering itself is a common human condition. This subtle shift in perspective helps me connect with humanity, rather than feeling apart, which served to increase my suffering.

If I can get myself to see suffering as a universal human condition, then it also changes my view on prayer. My prayer becomes a desire to connect with the universe in a way that reduces suffering, not just for myself, but for others as well. My prayer becomes a meditation on working to heal my soul in a way that makes compassion possible – toward myself and others.

I weave prayer and meditation together as complementary practices. I pray to release my suffering and affirm my wishes, then I meditate to quiet my ever-noisy head, to touch my bruised heart, and to restore my weary soul. These practices are very personal and I would never impose my approach on others. I write about it here as a means of reconciling my frustration with those who pray from an apparent desire to remain un-involved or from the arrogance of their own theology. I also write to work through my own hypocrisies.

Eventually, my practices include listening. I listen for what I would call the whisper of the universe. My Buddhist friends may consider it getting in touch with Buddha-nature. Some Christians might say it’s the Holy Spirit. I would not make any of those presumptions. I just know that I want the greater good for all of us, and that includes me, though I don’t know exactly how that will happen or even what comes next. How you pray or if you don’t, is just not my business. If you insist on praying for me, then I thank you for your good wishes, because sometimes wishes do come true. Please don’t expect reciprocity, because that is not my practice. Just know that my practice is intended for compassion. For you. For me. For friends and enemies. As the Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh said, “I vow to live fully in each moment and to look at all beings with eyes of compassion.” Well, I’m not making any vows, but I’m trying to head that direction. –J. B.


You know a major event is over when businesses start complaining about not making enough money. Philly’s mayor blamed the media, “You scared the s*** out of people,” (9/28/2015 for CroppedPopeBobbleheadthe Philadelphia Inquirer – I don’t mind spelling that word out in this blog, but I’m using a direct quote here.) Truth be told, the security was over-the-top and local people mostly got out of Dodge. Overall, the crowds were lower than the pre-event hysteria. I was able to get free tickets to Saturday’s event and even a train ticket two days before. So thanks to Mayor Nutter (who was once my boss when he was in City Council) for scaring the be-jesus out of everyone making it possible for me to get a last minute ticket. And even more important, I was able to get a coveted bobble-head doll.

Mayor highlights papal visit

In the suburbs, my local train station was one of the few regional rail stations that was open. The local NoParkingSignneighborhood responded by gouging pilgrims with daily parking fees of $20 to $40 with threatening towing signs, including at the local UCC church (sign pictured). Not so ecumenical, I think.

My writing history here has demonstrated that I am not a Christian chauvinist. As someone interested in religion, I was sincerely intrigued by the pope coming to Philadelphia though not romanced by the “World Celebration of Families.”  What I was not expecting from the papal visit, was to be moved. I was moved by what he said, and how many people he reached. Philly does have a significant number of Catholics, and of course there were stories of how far people had traveled for the papal appearance, but the crowds far surpassed just pilgrim Roman Catholics. Philly is gritty, corrupt, not very well-mannered, and yet still beautiful and historic. This is a city where no one should expect sentimentality, unless it’s about sports. So seeing thousands of people just trying to get a phone-photo of the popemobile was impressive.

The breadth of Center City is between two rivers is and under four miles from east to west with one IndependenceMallRevevent east and one west. All streets in the pope zone were closed for days, and all the city’s major arteries were closed Friday night to Sunday night. Mass transit was re-routed to accommodate papal visitors for regional rail and most bus routes were cancelled. Though it was possible to walk the four-ish miles from Independence Mall (Saturday event) the Benjamin Franklin Parkway (Sunday event), even sidewalks were closed so it took quite a lot of zig-zagging. Still, I have to tell you that people were patient and polite. The mayor reported only three arrests: one DUI, one probation violation, and one genius trying to take unnamed drugs through one of the security checkpoints.

What’s the take-away? My own observation is that I watched tens of thousands of people captivated VendorsWatching by a religious leader who speaks about poverty and social justice. He calls for compassion and environmental stewardship. I didn’t think it was possible, but compassion was a well-received message. When the pope spoke at Independence Hall even the food vendors stopped what they were doing to watch and listen. I saw many moist eyes and robust applause for messages I had come to believe would be unwelcome, or at least ignored.

This pope not only spoke about religious freedom for all, he spoke of the value and importance of pluralism. I can’t emphasize enough how remarkable I found that. There are very few religious leaders, other than the Dalai Lama, willing to support pluralism and religious tolerance. The secular press is quite incompetent at religious reporting, so the Saturday speech that I heard was reported as an immigration speech. That was accurate, but incomplete.

The pope at Independence Mall

In spite of the pope’s emphasis on compassion, hate did not take a vacation from his visit. There wereIMG_20150926_131617 protesters right outside of security at Independence Mall with large signs and a bullhorn trying to make it clear that everyone of the Roman Catholic faith is going to hell. This is as ridiculous as it was offensive. I admit it pissed me off. I did get in the face of two of the protesters and told them, yes with some vigor, to go home. I said that this is “not what Jesus would do.” They told me I was going to hell and I told them there is no hell. You get the idea. No impact, of course.

What’s next? One co-worker told me that her husband was so inspired by the pope he was going to try and be a better husband. Well, even if that lasts one week-end, she got a lovely apple-picking family outing from it. Baby steps, right?

Don’t think I’m turning a blind eye to the unenlightened view of the Roman Catholic CroppedBishopsChurch toward ordaining women and reproductive rights, the latter which is mostly ignored by Catholics anyway. But take a look at this picture. Any organization run by all these old men is not going to improve quickly.

So for one wonderful weekend, compassion, social justice, and environmental stewardship were headline messages. This gives me hope. Recently a co-worker admitted she thought I am “too cynical.”  Well, I don’t think you can be “too” cynical. It’s one of those things that you are or you aren’t. I embrace my PopeQuoteT-shirtinner cynic, because I’m usually right. But the weekend of Pope Francis in Philly gave me the gift of hope. Think about the religious leaders we’ve seen on global mass media. Usually they are doing something awful or asking for money. Here’s a guy who carries his own bag and lives in an apartment but still has rock star appeal.

PA tourism used to have a slogan: “You’ve got a friend in Pennsylvania.” Well, thanks Padre. You’ve got a friend in Pennsylvania. Lots of them, actually. Thank you for making compassion and tolerance mass media messages. -J.B.

Unholy Land

Living in the suburbs as I do, I would have difficulty in deciding which Saturday morning sound is worse: the leaf-blower or the chainsaw. Both make me want to scream – which I may have done once. Not unlike the sound of adults talking on Charlie Brown cartoons, when I hear Benyamin (Benjamin) Netanyahu speak, I hear a leaf-blower. Recently Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu has been spouting his typical doomsday rhetoric over the diplomatic agreement to place limits on Iran’s pursuit of nuclear weapons. Limits on nuclear weapons – of course that’s a bad thing.

Al Jazeera America online led with this paragraph on July 14, 2015. “Iran and six world powers announced a historic deal Tuesday morning that places limits on Tehran’s nuclear program in exchange for relief from international sanctions, a development that represents the most significant diplomatic milestone in a dispute that has lasted for more than a decade and could significantly alter geopolitics in the Middle East.” This is what Netanyahu has been complaining about, from which he could be comforted if the United States just sent Israel more money.

Al Jazeera article
Netanyahu response

The pending agreement to limit the development of nuclear weapons with Iran is just one story from a region that is violent and complex and which I wish I could ignore.  (I know I’m not the only one who feels that way.)  It was with great reluctance, and in fact dread, I decided to start reading about Palestine and Jerusalem, the entire Armstrong-Jerusalemregion being too overwhelming. Further, I admit that my research is never exhaustive; I try to identify a few good sources that I believe are reliable and work with them. I trust anything by Karen Armstrong as well-researched and well-written, so I have been reading Jerusalem: One City, Three Faiths (Ballantine Books NY 1996, new preface 2005). With all due respect to Armstrong, you can summarize thousands of years of Jerusalem’s history by saying: nobody gets along for long, and somebody’s gonna get killed.

I have supplemented the Armstrong reading with a publication by the Episcopal Church, which in my view is gloriously liberal, inclusive, and socially aware. The Episcopal Peace Fellowship produced, Steadfast Hope: The Palestinian Quest for Just Peace, an annual report-type 50-page book (second edition, August 2011). Accidentally, I also listened to two Philip Roth audio books. His characters provided insight into archetypes with regular interaction between Zionists and secular Jews (not mutually exclusive), weaving in an ongoing conversation about Jerusalem as the Homeland.

My research about Israel and Palestine has included the US role, which forces an awareness of the planeloads of money we lavish on that small country. In 2007, US foreign aid to Israel was $3 billion in direct assistance, which was two percent of their entire budget. Later in 2007, the Bush administration promised to increase the aid to $6 billion over the next 10 years (Steadfast Hope, p.33). Let’s say it’s five billion by now, and for a country of eight million people. In 2015 the US will spend only a little over double that, $13.13 million, on food and agriculture for a US population of 317 million. The math gives me a headache but no matter what the calculations, that’s too much money for too few people, with much of it spent on the military. That is not how I want my tax dollars spent.

US Budget Basics

Neither do I want my tax dollars spent on aggression against the Palestinians while Israel breaks international law. “US aid has been used to support Israel’s military occupation of Palestine, to build illegal colonies and segregated highways on Palestinian lands, to construct what Palestinians call the apartheid wall…” (Steadfast Hope p.33). The Israelis regularly use US made and paid Caterpillars to bulldoze Palestinian homes, businesses, groves of olive trees and more. Between 2000 and 2005, nearly 465,000 Palestinian olive trees were uprooted. That is not to say that olive trees are more important than people, it is to illustrate that however Israel tries to justify aggression, it will never be able to prove olive trees fired the first shot. Palestinian farmers are denied access to their own fields and residents are denied access to hospitals. Since 1972 the US has singularly vetoed 43 Security Council resolutions that were responding to Israel’s aggression against the Palestinian people.

When I was in graduate school at the University of Pennsylvania, I was never allowed to cite Wikipedia as a legitimate academic source. Nonetheless, I found a terrific timeline for the history of Jerusalem and the link follows. Let me tell you why this matters: because in the history of Jerusalem, lots of different folks have called Jerusalem theirs. The Jews are only one group. I have condensed the Wiki timeline below.

Wikipedia’s Jerusalem timeline
Ancient period – starts 4500 BCE with Canaanites
House of David rules after military conquest from 1010 BCE to 740 BCE
Classical Antiquity – 332 BCE “Hellenistic Kingdoms” & Romans
Life of Jesus and development of early Christianity
Late Antiquity – 324 CE Byzantine period
Middle Ages – 636 CE
1099 The Crusaders capture Jerusalem and slaughter most Muslims and Jews
Early Modern – 1516 Ottoman period
Modern Era – 1821 Ottoman, British, Israeli
1948 Arab-Israeli War
1967 The Six-day War

The current state of unquestioning, and in my view irrational and excessive support of Israel, takes us to Evangelical Christians in the US. Christianity is a majority religion in the US, but it is declining. Evangelicals enjoy a large percent of the Christian majority, but among Christians, they do not comprise a majority. (See the Pew study, the link follows.) What Evangelicals are good at is making noise and getting news coverage, and only seeming to be a majority. They embrace unquestioning support of Jewish rule of Israel. This political position has nothing to do with the life and ministry of Jesus, and in itself is un-Christian.

Pew’s Religious Landscape study

The irony of Evangelical support of Israel is that it is rooted in anti-Semitic, apocalyptic mythology. The political advocacy for a Jewish state in Israel pertains to end-time prophecies in which a Jewish state in Israel precedes the ‘second coming’ of Jesus, after which all the Jews are annihilated. Simply put, it is just one manifestation of cheering for the end of the world.

The excessive financial and unquestioning political support of Israel is neither Christian, patriotic, nor humanitarian. It is expensive and unjust. Neither is sole ownership of Jerusalem theologically valid for any of the three Abrahamic religions. In the Armstrong book she described Christianity as “the religion of love” and Islam as “the faith of unity and integration” (Kindle location 4762). Of Judaism, Armstrong said, “Crucial to the cult of Jerusalem from the very first was the importance of practical charity and social justice,” (location 289).

“All the great religions insist that the true spirituality is practical compassion,” (location 286). Additionally for Judaism, as it developed from a small sect to a more established religion it evolved: “As the religion of Yahweh changed during the Axial Age, justice and compassion became essential virtues, and without them, it was said, devotion to sacred space was worthless,” (location 1478).

Connecting the sacred to geography is not uncommon. It is paradoxical that human beings love the metaphysical aspect of religion but keep trying to connect it to the physical. “Historians of religion believe that it is one of the earliest manifestations of faith in all cultures. People have developed what has been called sacred geography that has nothing to do with a scientific map of the world, but which charts their interior life,” (location 185-6). Experientially, that makes sense for individuals; however, it is not politically valid.

It is inconceivable to me that any particular piece of land was promised to any specific tribe or religious group. And even if you think so, how in the world can you imagine that the God of a compassionate religion would approve of killing people to dominate property? The very acts of killing and aggression would make that land unholy. These conflicts have nothing to do with any god, only with politics and greed. It is all very human and entirely unholy. – J.B. Good

Lies and Myths

Aren’t kids in elementary school, or before, taught lying is wrong? Is that social convention or morality? Is lying always wrong? If you’re lying to protect the Underground Railroad, for example, then I’m going to go with not wrong. And perhaps to that classic question: Do I look fat? – it might be wise to say no, regardless of one’s honest opinion. Socially, we rarely say, ‘No, I’m not busy, but I don’t want to meet you;’ we create a socially acceptable alibi. And what about lying to our parents? I know several of the world’s religions have something to say both about how we treat our parents and about lying.

I have a friend whose 20-something offspring lies to him on a regular basis. It seems like this happens even when it just doesn’t matter, over the simplest questions. Perhaps the lies started when the kid wasLiarLiar younger and trying to craft a conflict-free space between divorced parents. Perhaps lying was easier than working things out honestly. A short-cut. What I have noticed from the outside-looking-in, is it seems that these routine lies present no apparent moral dilemma for my friend’s progeny.  Nonetheless the pattern of willful deceit is as hurtful to my friend as it is habitual for the kid. So maybe, the moral measure of the lie is the impact it has on others. In this case, I believe these lies are wrong because of how they hurt the parent and damage the relationship.

In everyday vernacular, the word myth has come to be interpreted as something that’s not true. I have the 1997 publication of the Oxford Dictionary of World Religions (John Bowker, ed.) and in spite of offering numerous thorough and worthy definitions in over two pages, the Oxford also says that the word myth has “become synonymous with falsehood” (p.671). That is an unfortunate use of the word. Myths, some related to religion and some not, are more like fairy tales, by best definition, as I wrote about previously.

“Happily Ever After: Fairy Tales and Religion”

Not too many people read “The Three Pigs” and debate whether the story ever happened. Fairy tales entertain us with a story and offer some moral guidance. No one wants a house that the Big Bad Wolf can blow down in one exhale, so perhaps this story suggests we might prepare for the worst and take more time to build a safer house, literally or metaphorically. Myths can offer social and moral guidance, when the word myth is used in the most accurate sense, and perhaps we shouldn’t use cable TV as an example. I just tried to watch two different shows with myth in the title: “Myth Busters,” and “Myth Hunters.” The first program was just an excuse to crash cars and de-bunk or recreate movie stunts. I couldn’t stand watching more than two minutes.

I watched two episodes of “Myth Hunters” on Netflix with two different men trying to prove two different Biblical myths. One guy tried to locate Noah’s Ark and the other claimed he located the Ark of the Covenant (both of Jewish and Christian legend). What I could not understand is why. They thought that by “proving” these two things existed, they would prove god exists. The thing is that even if someone locates what seems to be Noah’s Ark, there there is no way to actually prove that’s what it is. The other thing is that faith should not come out of proof, but rather inspiration, study, meditation, or life experience, to name a few different paths. Faith is all about believing what can’t be proven. If you need a series of facts to support your religion, then maybe religion is not for you. Stick with science – which is not to say science and religion are mutually exclusive. The complexity and grandeur of the universe is inspiring to me. Mystical in fact. But my inspiration not destroyed by basic scientific principles like gravity, climate change, or evolution.

Our culture needs more myths. I can imagine a modern myth about a greedy stock broker who nearly caused the collapse of the economy while amassing so much personal wealth that he literally exploded and all his wealth was turned into gold coins that rained down on public housing. I can also imagine a kid who lies to a parent so much that every lie sucks her into a hole from which only her parent can provide rescue if there is just one honest request, but the kid no longer remembers how to tell the truth.

Myths offer us the possibility of social subtlety, which I would think would be welcome in our screaming mass media world. An entertaining story with a variety of interpretations and moral lessons can be appreciated or politely ignored. You get to choose. By contrast, there is no need for the arrogance of shallow, accusatory television evangelists spewing simplistic answers to complex issues. That is the dumbing-down of moral lessons, and again, arrogance.

I would cite the popularity of Harry Potter as evidence on how myth serves humanity, especially the young. The book series had a clear value system, primarily social justice and defeating oppressors. Who doesn’t want to hear that story? There was personal sacrifice for the greater good and compassion toward outcasts. These are welcome messages, with the potential for positive social impact. And apparently, I’m not the only one who likes the Potter myth or J.K. Rowling would not have gone from welfare mother to billionaire.

While suffering the fools pursuing a real Noah’s Ark on Netflix, I found myself pondering it as a myth. It is not so hard to imagine a god disgusted with humanity and ready for a do-over. Then I think about Noah and what I take-away from that myth is that maybe, just maybe, one good person can make a difference. You may be mocked, it may mean tremendous sacrifice, but the flooding will come to an end and there will be rebirth, somewhere, somehow. And all that rebirth was made possible because God found one good person. One good person prevented the complete destruction of the world as he knew it; and, also noteworthy, lots of animals were saved.  Finding Noah’s Ark doesn’t prove Noah or God exist, but not finding his boat doesn’t mean the story is a lie, or without value. It doesn’t matter if it happened, it is a myth. It is a story that engages our imagination and gives us something to think about. One good person made a difference in spite of personal sacrifice and that is a myth to live by. – J.B.

The problem of ‘god’s will’

Usually I open one of these columns with some story, some episode that reminds me of something else, etc., etc. Today I’m jumping right in the deep end of the metaphoric pool because my spouse is an occasional Presbyterian and has me thinking about the old school Presbyterian conservatives still embracing predestination. I find this annoying. If you don’t know, the short definition for predestination it is that everything is fate, determined in advance. It is a scripted fate and we are just actors in a play who are only given a few pages at a time, with the ending changing (or occurring) at any moment. In response, allow me to use a weighty theological term: rubbish.

The best friend of predestinationists, like fundamentalists (of any religion), is rationalization. That’s because no human can adapt these simplistic, rigid theologies without rationalizing all the obvious and daily events that make their theology absurd and logic impossible. When something good happens to them, it is god’s will. When something good happens to their enemies then god’s will is a mystery. And have you ever noticed that folks with these narrow theologies always have a long list of enemies? Me, I have secret admirer type enemies. They don’t know who they are, but I remember the last time they crapped on me. Mercifully, it’s a short list. One of those was a boss who bullied me and just got fired. He’s off the list now. Once justice kicks in, I’m cool. I never took it personally; after all, he was just another misogynist. Plenty more out there.

I’ve been reading Anne Lamott’s new book, Small Victories. I do enjoy reading her books and find someSmall Victories amusement and inspiration. Here I am on a holiday week-end, thrilled to not be schlepping off to work where people will be telling me what to do – or at least strongly implying it. I get to sit home in my sweats and read.  Yippee.  Then Lamott slips (I hope) and writes: “…that could not possibly be God’s will for us…” (p.245). Lamott is frequently sarcastic, which I love, so maybe it was that kind of reference. I still found it disturbing. I don’t mean that in a reluctant or funny way either.

The biggest problem I find in touting a god’s will vernacular is that it eliminates human responsibility. Those rationalizing away may suggest that the human experience is about seeking that perfect Will. Again: rubbish. I recognize that as a Westerner, I have probably been infused with too much individualization and not enough community. That said, if my own human experience is not mine to define, then what is the point? I don’t see a cosmic or theological value in stumbling through the fog to figure out a mysterious plan by a seemingly arbitrary, and often capricious but omnipotent deity. No thank you. Of course it’s true that I regularly feel battered by life. But those miserable events were not prescribed by the God of Job allowing the Devil to keep throwing shit at me to prove whether or not I’m faithful.

What I am reluctant to admit, is that I’m a person of faith. That is because, I don’t want anyone thinking I’m a role model. It is also because when people talk about faith, it is usually because they really want to talk about their own ideologies. Faith is deeply personal and can’t be imposed by others. We can only figure this out for ourselves, like it or not. That, I believe is a life-long process.

I have been visiting and collecting data on weekly worship for more than a year. When my research is concluded, I will have been to every place of worship within two miles of my house, stretching to 10 miles in order to fully cover most denominations and religions in proximity. Because this country has a Christian majority, I have been to only Christian churches so far. For the most part, I wanted to see for myself if churches are dying and why people go. What I have found, and for this I have sufficient data, is very few churches are welcoming and friendly. I determine this by observing whether I am invited back and if anyone greets me – other than the usher who is assigned to that as a duty. I do my best to blend-in, I smile endlessly (but just short of crazy) and don’t really speak unless spoken to, so it’s not that they read my blog or know what I’m thinking. (Whew.) The majority are neither welcoming nor friendly. Yes, the majority.  (One example follows.)

 “Open Door” – Closed Minds

I have another observation, but it is more anecdotal: the more rigid and ideological the church, the less welcoming and friendly. I have been sitting in a number of these churches where both the subtle and overt message was about god’s will. People seem to climb into this thinking as if it was the lap of a good parent. I observed it to be more of a comfortable indulgence, than the discomfort of being challenged to be a better person or help the suffering. The other observation I’ve made, which is also anecdotal, is that the more the church engaged in service to others outside their own club, the healthier the church seemed. For many churches, I have felt anger or pity. For the churches which are driven to help others, I felt hope and saw vitality.

I have faith that life is about experiences and compassion. It is more about learning from my own mistakes, for which I accept responsibility, than prayer for a divine map. In this Anne Lamott is right in identifying “Small Victories.” Sometimes that’s all we’ve got. Many religions talk about grace, though using different words for it. The Lutherans think they own that word, they do not. If I were to pray for grace, I would imagine it as a way to respond to life’s crap with more compassion than bitterness. And I would further request the grace to notice the suffering around me and work to find ways that I am capable of responding. I do request help from the Universe in this pursuit, not because it’s God’s will or to earn an enviable placement in heaven, but because life gets really difficult. I fail a lot – again, I’m nobody’s role model. But I do not need to be forgiven for not following a plan I don’t know about. I just need a little help to get back up, and to recognize those “Small Victories” along the way. – J.B.

Tiny Houses and Religion


Tiny Houses by Jay Shafer

When I think about what I most like doing at home, it is reading, writing, watching birds/squirrels/rabbits in the yard, and hanging-out with my cats – no disrespect to my spouse. (He’s just noisier and higher maintenance.) If I have a vice, other than eating chocolate and all forms of sugar, it is that I like entertaining. I’m not great at it, and meals are not gourmet, but I will have cloth napkins, fresh flowers, quality food, and wine. This is what I expect of myself. My entertaining is not extravagant, but I could not do it in a Tiny House.

“We the Tiny House People: Small Homes, Tiny Flats & Wee Shelters” By Kirsten Dirksen

Though I envy those Tiny House people, I do have some stuff that I want to have around me; however, I don’t have offspring and what means something to me now, will mean nothing to those who are left to disperse my humble possessions after my demise. Maybe it will fall to my nieces, who I pray I have taught to not just send it all to the landfill, but at least find a thrift shop. So being middle-aged, I’m looking around thinking what a pain in the ass it will be for someone to deal with all this crap. And yet, a Tiny House? Where will I put my table linens? The litter boxes?

There you have it, the minimalist quandary. What do I keep? What do I shed? What do I refuse to take in? It’s no different in religion. The way that the major religions are practiced today is probably not the way they started, or even what used to be good about them. But do not be confused. Minimalism is not fundamentalism. Fundamentalism, as I define it, takes a religion to the fundamentals of days gone by, without a sense of context, e.g. Biblical Literalists. A minimalist view would look at the essence of a religion. In other words, I believe religious minimalism can be found in understanding the context of religious thought without being limited by its history or even modern corruptions. (All religion is interpretive and minimalism is one interpretation.)

Perhaps Buddhism is the Tiny House of religions. For me, it is the first religion that comes to mind in thinking about minimalism because it is both complex and simple. What is the essence of Buddhism? It depends who you ask. You could get answers like: mindfulness, life is suffering, detachment, compassion, noble truths, meditation, and so much more.

Buddhism can be practiced simply, but reconciling compassion with detachment always seemed complex to me. For example, one interpretation of Buddhism had monks sweeping the ants from the walkway in front of them, lest they step on and kill any of them. Yet in another account, I read about a Japanese monastery that drowned unwanted kittens – or worse, loosed their aggressive dog to do the dirty work and kill the kitten violently, (Janwillem van de Wetering, The Empty Mirror: Experiences in a Japanese Zen Monastery, 1973, p.35-6). They must have had some discomfort with this killing because they did it at night. I introduce this story not to accuse those particular monks of hypocrisy, but to identify the difficulty in making choices and reconciling values. Essential Buddhism to me is found in the quote which I thought was the Buddha, though I have been unable to substantiate, it is: “Look at the world through the eyes of compassion.”

We could use more compassion. We now live in a world with rants and deeply disturbing photos posted online with global access. Last week there was a picture of a starving African woman on my Twitter feed. Some American (I think) white male responded by saying, “f-her.” Really? Condemnation for starvation? That makes no sense. I responded with something like, “Why are you so angry? Why does suffering not reach you?” He responded by repeatedly Tweeting a photo of himself (I assume) to jam-up my Twitter feed. I am baffled by his attitude, just as I am confounded by a world with the sophistication of social media and the barbarity of be-headings.

What is the appropriate response to proud, showy brutality, for the civilized and compassionate of the world? (Religion & Ethics NewsWeekly has a good story on this – link below.) I don’t think it is a time for Buddhist detachment in terms of action; but it is definitely time to detach from the vengeful emotions that I believe Buddhists rightly warn us would perpetuate the pain to which we might hope to respond in the first place. Even though it is popular to equate religion with conflict, the essence of most religions is compassion. A minimalist approach to these religions can inform better choices in a complex world.

Religion & Ethics NewsWeekly on ISIS

I am one of those people who lives paycheck-to-paycheck and spends significant time worrying about money, so I’m not judging – I’m right there with you, but the financial obsession of Americans at all income levels, leaves little energy left to consider or confront difficult and painful social issues, local or global. I believe our consumer-culture and aggressive capitalism has anesthetized us from being all that we can be as human beings. In the grind of getting to work, staying employed, and paying the bills, it is nearly impossible to feel empowered. It’s even difficult to get Americans to vote and that is a simple, civic act that costs us nothing and is usually less than one mile from our homes. Do you know what does feel good? Yes, spending money.

I don’t have the answers, but I am comfortable posing some questions. What choices will I make today that will keep my life more simple, with fewer material distractions? What actions can I take that will not support global aggression? What thoughts and intentions can I nurture in myself that will send healing energy to the hungry and abused? What actions must I take to demonstrate my compassion and take it beyond private intentions? To quote Zen Master Seung Sahn, “Only don’t know.” Begging indulgence from my Buddhist friends, my unenlightened Western interpretation is that I don’t think we should stop asking questions, but rather remain humble in our pursuit of right action and right thought. Life happens in the small choices. Should I buy it? Should I keep it? What does vacation really mean? Does this activity nurture my soul or sedate it? “Only don’t know.” –J.B.