If you're one of my Dutch or Belgian readers, you might have woken up this morning and thought about the cold you'll have to bike through, or the meal you're going to be cooking tonight before you even realized that today is Halloween. You might have decided to decorate your home with pumpkins galore, or thought of it as yet another ridiculous American holiday trying to make it on the other side of the ocean. If you're an American living overseas, you might have woken up this morning and realized that although you bought bags and bags of candy, you won't be having any trick or treaters coming to your door,and so you'll be left fighting the urge to eat all those fun-size Snickers and Milikyways yourself all night long.
In case you were expecting the next sentence to start with "If you're an American living stateside" and then state something generalized about the American Halloween experience, I'm sorry to let you down. Because last Monday I realized more than ever that there is no such thing as "The" American, just as there is no such thing as the typical American Halloween experience. In fact, if you live in the south, it is very well possible that you grew up believing Halloween is as evil as, oh, telling someone to shut up.
I always knew that there were Southern Baptists who objected to the celebration of Halloween. The fact that the celebration centers on kids in costumes who spend most of the night and the following days on a sugar high as a result of all the candy consumed on October 31st is irrelevant to them. In their opinion, Halloween has clear pagan roots, celebrates a spirit world unrelated to Jesus and God, and therefore reeks of idol-or in some more fundamentalist cases- devil-worshipping. Yes ma'am. Not to be persuaded by the argument that Halloween could be based on the Catholic "All Hallows' Eve" as much as it could be related to the Pagan feast of Samhain, they forbid their children from dressing up and going trick or treating. In their never-ending quest to save as many souls as possible, they usually refuse to hand out candy to other children as well. Instead, parents of little children dressed as princesses, Spidermen, or a milk carton are left to explain the signs posted on the doors of these unbelievers in Halloween, which usually sport supportive texts like "No candy here! God Bless You!", or "Halloween is not a Godly celebration!".
Instead of celebrating Halloween, then, many of these Southern Baptists attend "Harvest festivals" at their local churches, where bouncy castles, pony rides, best costume contests, and the oddly named "trunk or treat" are available to entertain their children. It looks like Halloween, it talks like Halloween, it walks like Halloween, but since we're not calling it Halloween, the God of the southern baptists approves.
But this past Monday, when attending another life group session at a local church, I realized that there is yet an entirely different group of believers out there. People who reject Halloween as much as these southern baptists do, but for a completely different reason. These Christians, you see, use October 31 to celebrate Reformation Day.
Reformation Day, for those of you unfortunate enough to be Roman Catholic, Jewish, or heavens forbid, atheist, marks the day that Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the door of the church in Heidelberg. It thus marks the birth of today's protestant movement, and apparently there is an entire subculture of Christians who choose to celebrate this in lieu of Halloween or the Harvest Festival.
When responding to my question about what they would be doing on Wednesday, one of the husbands responded that he always used that day to hand out copies of the 95 theses to his Catholic friends and colleagues. Not understanding why he would do that, I asked why.
"Why, it's Reformation Day, of course!" The pastor's wife explained, and after a few moments, it clicked for me. Reformation Day. Of course.
The pastor's wife went on to wax lyrical about the little Martin Luther costumes they had made for their children. Since a day without sarcasm is a day not lived, and really, who needs friends?, I joined in with the very cynical and not-to-be-taken serious comment, "Oh, you should totally re-enact the nailing of the 95 theses on Wednesday night, that would be so cool".
Husband-dear, who senses the sarcasm, shot me a slightly warning look, but fortunately, the mom whom the comment was addressed to, didn't notice, "Oh wow, that's such a great idea! I think we'll totally do that!"
I smiled a Cheshire cat smile, and added I was always happy to come up with interesting ideas.
So, happy Reformation Day everyone, and make sure you check out the 95 theses today.
To all my Catholic, Jewish, Mormon, Atheist, Agnostic, or people with a sense of humor, rest assured, we will be lighting our pumpkins and handing out candy tonight. We'll just keep some copies of those theses on hand in case the pastor stops by.
Showing posts with label Amen sister. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Amen sister. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Repression and Jesus
"How are you?"
"I'm fine, how about yourself?"
"How are you doing?"
"Well, how are you?"
What did the four Americans who just exchanged those four brief sentences just do? Did they inquire after one another's emotional status? Did they want to know how you were really, truly feeling on the inside? No. They just said hi. Only they used about 3.5 words on average instead of one.
For all those Dutch people who have used this quintessential American greeting as proof that Americans really are extremely superficial, I will say it one more time: They aren't.
Really.
They just prefer to really truly completely acknowledge you when they see you, and "hi!" just isn't going to do that. So instead they ask you how you are, which just sounds a little more involved than "hi" or "hey". It doesn't mean that all Americans are fakes or superficial. All you could possibly conclude from these exchanges is that they're wordy, and you know, to each their own.
I've had this conversation with friends from not only Holland, but also Germany, Scandinavia, and the UK on a variety of occasions. And whenever I explain that it's just the American way of saying hello, most people will quickly venture into the "Well, OK, but Americans are a lot more superficial (Dutch), positive (German), introverted (Scandinavian), happy (UK) than we are." The bottom line I get from all nationalities is that Americans appear less likely to share their (especially negative) emotions than a lot of Europeans.
Take that, Americans.
Obviously, taking the Dutch and their almost endearing bluntness ("I don't know what you did with your hair, but I liked the old cut way better") as a standard is hardly fair, but even if we were to use the definitely stiff-upper lipped British as the yard stick, I'm beginning to think that all these people are on to something. I mean, at least British people use a well-known code to express their negative feelings, i.e., they may not say something absolutely sucks, but when a Brit calls something "interesting", you know you're in trouble.
Now when I say they're on to something, I'm not siding with all these painfully honest Dutch people in claiming that all Americans are superficial. First of all, with 300 million Americans, generalization is not just impossible, it's downright ludicrous. Second, I think the Dutch need to do some serious navel-gazing themselves, and write a paper entitled, "The twenty ways in which always being honest is NOT a good life policy". And third, well, there is no third, other than that as a half-Dutch half-American, I think we should all just be nice to each other.
Anyway, the reason I'm starting to believe that America, and the south in particular, could work on acknowledging negative emotions a little better is actually directly related to two experiences I had only recently. The first one occurred at church. As you may remember, we attend the base chapel, and are close friends with one of the chaplains. A few Sundays ago, he started his sermon off on a very promising note. He related how when he and his bagger at the commissary were making small talk on the way to his car, the bagger answered the obligatory "how are you" with a "not really well.". As anyone familiar with the south knows, that sent everyone's eyebrows (including mine) into the stratosphere. Here in the south you pretty much need to be bleeding from the throat in a Friday the 13th type of way before you admit you're not fine. The chaplain tapped into that sentiment, and wondered aloud what could be wrong with someone that they would admit to not being fine. At that point, I got really excited: Where we finally going to address the problems with always pretending everything was fine? With telling people you were "blessed" while you really felt like you were so overwhelmed you might explode at any moment?
No. Of course not.
Much to my surprise, the message from that Sunday was this, "When you know that Jesus died for your sins, how can you ever not be fine?"
Uhm.
What?
Now don't get me wrong, I think the whole notion of Jesus dying for your sins, grace, redemption, yadda yadda yadda is spectacularly awesome. I do. But does that preclude me from ever being not fine? Does that mean I can't ever be sad? Or lonely? Or just freaking pissed off? Apparently so. Jesus' blood took care of all of that. His blood shed for you means that you have no reason, ever again, to worry, or feel depressed. I wonder if his blood can drive me to work when I'm too tired to keep my eyes open too.
But I chalked it up to an overzealous chaplain, who possibly meant to say that with Jesus you can overcome all those things, but in his fervor, got caught up in the whole "sacrifice for you" thing, and I moved on.
Until husband-dear had to do a resiliency training. A what? Yes, a resiliency training. The Air Force, and our base in particular, has really been struggling with suicides, attempted suicides, and an increase in PTSD. In response, the Air Force has not only upped its prevention programs, but it's also created yet another mandatory training. It's what the Air Force does. There's diversity training, sexual harassment prevention training, when don't ask don't tell was repealed, there was training about how to not discriminate/offend people who are of a previously not-approved sexual orientation, and now there's resiliency training.
So husband-dear emailed me the slides, and OMG-my-head-almost-exploded-you're-not-going-to-believe-this, what did they say about how to deal with negative emotions such as sadness or depression? How does the Air Force want its members to deal with that?
You are to repress them.
Yes, if you're in the Air Force and you feel bad, just pretend it's not there.
And why, you ask? Well, apparently, negative feelings spiral you down into more negative feelings.
No?! Really?
So here's the solution for all those suffering from PTSD, depression, anxiety, whathaveyou, just repress everything and you will be fine. Please don't talk about it, or share it with your family, your wingman or your chaplain. Well, I suppose you can talk to your chaplain, as he will just tell you that you have no reason to be sad since Jesus died for you, and how cool! is! that!
It's enough to make me wonder if Barney Stinson has been given an advisory position within the Air Force, "Whenever I'm sad, I stop being sad, and start being awesome again."
"I'm fine, how about yourself?"
"How are you doing?"
"Well, how are you?"
What did the four Americans who just exchanged those four brief sentences just do? Did they inquire after one another's emotional status? Did they want to know how you were really, truly feeling on the inside? No. They just said hi. Only they used about 3.5 words on average instead of one.
For all those Dutch people who have used this quintessential American greeting as proof that Americans really are extremely superficial, I will say it one more time: They aren't.
Really.
They just prefer to really truly completely acknowledge you when they see you, and "hi!" just isn't going to do that. So instead they ask you how you are, which just sounds a little more involved than "hi" or "hey". It doesn't mean that all Americans are fakes or superficial. All you could possibly conclude from these exchanges is that they're wordy, and you know, to each their own.
I've had this conversation with friends from not only Holland, but also Germany, Scandinavia, and the UK on a variety of occasions. And whenever I explain that it's just the American way of saying hello, most people will quickly venture into the "Well, OK, but Americans are a lot more superficial (Dutch), positive (German), introverted (Scandinavian), happy (UK) than we are." The bottom line I get from all nationalities is that Americans appear less likely to share their (especially negative) emotions than a lot of Europeans.
Take that, Americans.
Obviously, taking the Dutch and their almost endearing bluntness ("I don't know what you did with your hair, but I liked the old cut way better") as a standard is hardly fair, but even if we were to use the definitely stiff-upper lipped British as the yard stick, I'm beginning to think that all these people are on to something. I mean, at least British people use a well-known code to express their negative feelings, i.e., they may not say something absolutely sucks, but when a Brit calls something "interesting", you know you're in trouble.
Now when I say they're on to something, I'm not siding with all these painfully honest Dutch people in claiming that all Americans are superficial. First of all, with 300 million Americans, generalization is not just impossible, it's downright ludicrous. Second, I think the Dutch need to do some serious navel-gazing themselves, and write a paper entitled, "The twenty ways in which always being honest is NOT a good life policy". And third, well, there is no third, other than that as a half-Dutch half-American, I think we should all just be nice to each other.
Anyway, the reason I'm starting to believe that America, and the south in particular, could work on acknowledging negative emotions a little better is actually directly related to two experiences I had only recently. The first one occurred at church. As you may remember, we attend the base chapel, and are close friends with one of the chaplains. A few Sundays ago, he started his sermon off on a very promising note. He related how when he and his bagger at the commissary were making small talk on the way to his car, the bagger answered the obligatory "how are you" with a "not really well.". As anyone familiar with the south knows, that sent everyone's eyebrows (including mine) into the stratosphere. Here in the south you pretty much need to be bleeding from the throat in a Friday the 13th type of way before you admit you're not fine. The chaplain tapped into that sentiment, and wondered aloud what could be wrong with someone that they would admit to not being fine. At that point, I got really excited: Where we finally going to address the problems with always pretending everything was fine? With telling people you were "blessed" while you really felt like you were so overwhelmed you might explode at any moment?
No. Of course not.
Much to my surprise, the message from that Sunday was this, "When you know that Jesus died for your sins, how can you ever not be fine?"
Uhm.
What?
Now don't get me wrong, I think the whole notion of Jesus dying for your sins, grace, redemption, yadda yadda yadda is spectacularly awesome. I do. But does that preclude me from ever being not fine? Does that mean I can't ever be sad? Or lonely? Or just freaking pissed off? Apparently so. Jesus' blood took care of all of that. His blood shed for you means that you have no reason, ever again, to worry, or feel depressed. I wonder if his blood can drive me to work when I'm too tired to keep my eyes open too.
But I chalked it up to an overzealous chaplain, who possibly meant to say that with Jesus you can overcome all those things, but in his fervor, got caught up in the whole "sacrifice for you" thing, and I moved on.
Until husband-dear had to do a resiliency training. A what? Yes, a resiliency training. The Air Force, and our base in particular, has really been struggling with suicides, attempted suicides, and an increase in PTSD. In response, the Air Force has not only upped its prevention programs, but it's also created yet another mandatory training. It's what the Air Force does. There's diversity training, sexual harassment prevention training, when don't ask don't tell was repealed, there was training about how to not discriminate/offend people who are of a previously not-approved sexual orientation, and now there's resiliency training.
So husband-dear emailed me the slides, and OMG-my-head-almost-exploded-you're-not-going-to-believe-this, what did they say about how to deal with negative emotions such as sadness or depression? How does the Air Force want its members to deal with that?
You are to repress them.
Yes, if you're in the Air Force and you feel bad, just pretend it's not there.
And why, you ask? Well, apparently, negative feelings spiral you down into more negative feelings.
No?! Really?
So here's the solution for all those suffering from PTSD, depression, anxiety, whathaveyou, just repress everything and you will be fine. Please don't talk about it, or share it with your family, your wingman or your chaplain. Well, I suppose you can talk to your chaplain, as he will just tell you that you have no reason to be sad since Jesus died for you, and how cool! is! that!
It's enough to make me wonder if Barney Stinson has been given an advisory position within the Air Force, "Whenever I'm sad, I stop being sad, and start being awesome again."
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Now trending: The prayer circle
Remember that final I gave two years ago? The one where one of my students called out to Jesus minutes before the final started, and then was terrified I had jinxed them by responding that He wasn't here right now, but I would gladly answer their questions? Well, up until last week it had been very quiet on the religious front during finals. Students still insisted on professing their faith during class, especially in philosophy and ethics where they refused to take seriously any philosopher who claimed to be an atheist (and, folks, let me tell you, there are a lot of those), but there haven't been any cries to God during tests or finals. Well, until last week.
At first I thought it was just a bunch of seniors finally caving into the pressures of the final semester in college. Right before about ten seniors were to take their very last final, one of them got up, and said, "We need a prayer circle. Guys, come on, let's pray."
As an afterthought, they turned to me and said, "You don't mind, do you?"
Uhm.
I guess not?
As an employee of a public university, I know the rules about professing your faith or your political preference (we'd rather you didn't), about showing preference for students of similar faith or political background (absolutely not), but I wasn't sure if there were any bylaws about permitting or forbidding a prayer circle. However, as soon as I surmised that all of the students were actually volunteering to be in the circle, I realized no one would care. So I let them. And shrugged it off.
But I don't know what happened, whether word got out about how well all these seniors did, or whether my students simply had a revival in their faith, but today, right before I was about to ask everyone to take a seat, one of my students announced she was going to have a prayer circle outside the classroom for anyone who wanted to join in.
Everyone did.
What do they pray for, you ask? Well, interestingly, the seniors explicitly asked for a nice grade, "Now Jesus we know we can't all get a 100", one of the seniors said, and I smiled at their humbleness, only to be taken aback by the next statement, "But you know, a 99 would be really nice."
The students who took their final today didn't ask for a specific grade. They asked for a good memory and a calm mind. And there were lots of "Amen's" and "Praise Jesus's".
As I professed two years ago, I am a Christian. A tree-hugging, hippie-liberal, can-unfortunately-cuss-like-a-sailor one, but a Christian nonetheless. Having said that, and having spent another two years down here in the bible belt, I'm really still not sure what to think, or do with myself, when students pray before a final. I mean, this is not exactly something they teach you in graduate school, "Proper conduct during student prayer" was, unfortunately, not on my course list.
Now if I knew for sure that these kids had spent days, weeks, preparing for the final, it might be different. But people, I see their tweets, I know what they've been up to, and cracking the books didn't come into most of their minds until early this morning. Can you pray for a good memory and a clear mind when you've barely spent the necessary time studying?
And then there is the very practical question of what I do with myself. Do I smile? Or does that look like I'm smirking at them? Do I stop what I'm doing out of respect? Or do I continue pushing chairs apart? And what on earth would I do if an administrator walked by? (although chances are they would join in). This whole prayer circle thing just presents a whole level of dilemmas that my brain just can't process during final week.
So I think I'm just going to do something I do know how to handle: grade finals. And let me see if Someone really came through, or if their procrastination caught up with them.
At first I thought it was just a bunch of seniors finally caving into the pressures of the final semester in college. Right before about ten seniors were to take their very last final, one of them got up, and said, "We need a prayer circle. Guys, come on, let's pray."
As an afterthought, they turned to me and said, "You don't mind, do you?"
Uhm.
I guess not?
As an employee of a public university, I know the rules about professing your faith or your political preference (we'd rather you didn't), about showing preference for students of similar faith or political background (absolutely not), but I wasn't sure if there were any bylaws about permitting or forbidding a prayer circle. However, as soon as I surmised that all of the students were actually volunteering to be in the circle, I realized no one would care. So I let them. And shrugged it off.
But I don't know what happened, whether word got out about how well all these seniors did, or whether my students simply had a revival in their faith, but today, right before I was about to ask everyone to take a seat, one of my students announced she was going to have a prayer circle outside the classroom for anyone who wanted to join in.
Everyone did.
What do they pray for, you ask? Well, interestingly, the seniors explicitly asked for a nice grade, "Now Jesus we know we can't all get a 100", one of the seniors said, and I smiled at their humbleness, only to be taken aback by the next statement, "But you know, a 99 would be really nice."
The students who took their final today didn't ask for a specific grade. They asked for a good memory and a calm mind. And there were lots of "Amen's" and "Praise Jesus's".
As I professed two years ago, I am a Christian. A tree-hugging, hippie-liberal, can-unfortunately-cuss-like-a-sailor one, but a Christian nonetheless. Having said that, and having spent another two years down here in the bible belt, I'm really still not sure what to think, or do with myself, when students pray before a final. I mean, this is not exactly something they teach you in graduate school, "Proper conduct during student prayer" was, unfortunately, not on my course list.
Now if I knew for sure that these kids had spent days, weeks, preparing for the final, it might be different. But people, I see their tweets, I know what they've been up to, and cracking the books didn't come into most of their minds until early this morning. Can you pray for a good memory and a clear mind when you've barely spent the necessary time studying?
And then there is the very practical question of what I do with myself. Do I smile? Or does that look like I'm smirking at them? Do I stop what I'm doing out of respect? Or do I continue pushing chairs apart? And what on earth would I do if an administrator walked by? (although chances are they would join in). This whole prayer circle thing just presents a whole level of dilemmas that my brain just can't process during final week.
So I think I'm just going to do something I do know how to handle: grade finals. And let me see if Someone really came through, or if their procrastination caught up with them.
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