I don’t believe in God, but it seems like a pretty nice idea. Like having some omniscient, super-human dad who makes the world make sense and watches out for you to boot. But unlike your real dad, he controls everything ever. And you can ask him for stuff that your real dad can't give you. But that's where, for me, the metaphor runs into trouble.
How exactly does prayer work. From what I understand, God is the ruler of everything and he has a grand plan that your tiny, euclidean brain can't possibly understand. So you just follow along the path (ideally) that he has planned for you because in the end, he knows best.
So where does prayer fit in? If God has this great big plan for you and everyone you know and love (not to mention trees and rocks and bees and leeches) then what are you doing on your knees praying that your Dad's surgery goes well? If God has a plan and he knows better than you, then where does your will, via prayer come in? Why do we turn to prayer when things get bad and we feel like we could use some help from our super human dad? Weren't things going bad in the first place because it was part of his plan?
Or, are we praying to stay in the good graces of our tempermental papa? That's what history, and the bible would suggest. God delivered Christians and Jews because they prayed to him, and smote their enemies when they didn't get their way. Which makes since when its Christian verses pagan. Or good versus evil. Satan is trying to take your beloved father away from you, so you pray to God do he will save him from his clutches. Simple enough.
But, when you start universalising, it gets a little confusing. If God is the prime mover, and he responds to the prayers of his faithful, does that mean that through God, Christians are the masters of the universe? In that case, God is logically subordinate and Christians have usurped God as the prime movers (at least when it comes to the things that matter to us. No one really cares about how fast the grass grows, so he can handle that).
This not only creates a more subjective God than most Christians would like to admit, but it raises questions about which Christians are the prime movers. Catholics? Protestants? Mormons? I mean the formula is simple when its 'good v. evil' or 'Christian v. Hindu', but what happens when two equally faithful Christians are praying for opposing things?
Like when two Catholic priests are praying for opposing teams in a football game (do numbers count? is it some sort of holy democracy?). Or what if a monestary is planning and outing on Saturday and the nuns are praying for rain so they can stay inside and do crafts, and the priests are praying for sunshine so they can all take the altar boys camping (I just couldn't resist)? Who wins? Is it a numbers game? Or is it who has the cleanest soul?
The latter seems to coincide with Christian tradition. But, what about the four year old boy who prays that his father won't beat him anymore? What lesson could those beatings be teaching a toddler? What part of God's master plan involves child abuse? What about all of the unanswered prayers of the victims of genocide?
Maybe I am thinking too concretely. Christianity can be a slippery thing. For me, either God's will reigns or man's will reigns. And if man's will reigns, and the difference between suffering and bliss is a question of prayer then does the Holocaust mean that Christianity is the right religion? What about the Gaza massacre? Does holding a gun make your prayers louder?
The trouble with Christianity is that one set of questions just leads to a whole set of others. That is until someone tells you to shut up and have faitn.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
The Good Life, Greek Style
When I was in college, I took a two week trip to Greece. I visited the paltry remains of a great empire, got pretty trashed on ouzo, blah blah blah. The Greek boys were the most educational part of my experience. Like, for instance, did you know that “Greek style” meant anal sex? I didn’t.
And when fashionable young Greek boys weren’t trying to persuade me not to be so American so they could put it in my butt, I learned a lot more about the randy traditions that lay the foundations of modern Greece. The bacchanalia that inspired the Roman Empire and laid the foundation for Western culture before the Puritans came and ruined it all.
And recently, archaeologist Clare Kelly Blazeby of the University of Leeds, UK re-examined some ancient Greek remains for evidence of the good life represented in plays and songs recovered from the time before Christ: boozing, screwing, gorging, general shenanigans. And what she discovered was that the reason that modern historians had been unable to find evidence of these activities was that they were looking in the wrong place.
Ancient Greek bacchanalia didn’t take place in brothels or pubs or any of the modern institutions we create to segregate the people who think life should be enjoyed. They did it right at home.
Why should paying customers suffer the indignity of pacing in front of the hooker store at 9AM, waiting for it to open? When hookers live where they hook and boozers live where they booze, it cuts down on a lot of commuting and detoxing.
Now that’s the good life. And Glazebrook’s research also proves that the good life was a much more egalitarian affair than previously thought. While women, slaves and foreigners may not have been able to vote, they could buy hookers or wine. Which are much more related to happiness anyway. I, for one, think this idea should be revisited. I know a lot of friends who would save a lot of commute money if they could just keep the hookers at their house and install a bar. Plus, you could charge the hookers rent and get freebies. A great idea to save money during the recession.
And when fashionable young Greek boys weren’t trying to persuade me not to be so American so they could put it in my butt, I learned a lot more about the randy traditions that lay the foundations of modern Greece. The bacchanalia that inspired the Roman Empire and laid the foundation for Western culture before the Puritans came and ruined it all.
And recently, archaeologist Clare Kelly Blazeby of the University of Leeds, UK re-examined some ancient Greek remains for evidence of the good life represented in plays and songs recovered from the time before Christ: boozing, screwing, gorging, general shenanigans. And what she discovered was that the reason that modern historians had been unable to find evidence of these activities was that they were looking in the wrong place.
Ancient Greek bacchanalia didn’t take place in brothels or pubs or any of the modern institutions we create to segregate the people who think life should be enjoyed. They did it right at home.
Why should paying customers suffer the indignity of pacing in front of the hooker store at 9AM, waiting for it to open? When hookers live where they hook and boozers live where they booze, it cuts down on a lot of commuting and detoxing.
Now that’s the good life. And Glazebrook’s research also proves that the good life was a much more egalitarian affair than previously thought. While women, slaves and foreigners may not have been able to vote, they could buy hookers or wine. Which are much more related to happiness anyway. I, for one, think this idea should be revisited. I know a lot of friends who would save a lot of commute money if they could just keep the hookers at their house and install a bar. Plus, you could charge the hookers rent and get freebies. A great idea to save money during the recession.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Is Joaquin Phoenix Living the Good Life?
I'd really like to think so. I really like Joaquin Phoenix. He as the quirky, dark quality that I like in an actor. And maybe when a chubbier, more hirsute Joaquin Phoenix announced the end of his acting career it was to search for a something better.
Maybe he knows more about rap than I do. Yup, that's right. In case you missed it, Joaquin Phoenix the actor is now Joaquin Phoenix the rapper. I couldn't make this shit up. I want to believe (despite watching actors like Britney Spears pack on the pounds and engage in, albeit less 'artistic', erratic behavior in a similar fashion before her meltdown) that his transition into rap music is part of his dynamic personality, and not a slow spiral into madness.
But the signs aren't good. If Joaquin is in his right mind, he definitely doesn’t look it. And I like chubby, hairy artistic types. But on him it looks less natural and more a sign of depression. It just does. And that’s before I saw the YouTube clip of his awkward performance.
As 34-year-old Joaquin head bobbed his way onstage on Saturday at Las Vegas’ club LAVO, he at least looked the part. Appropriately scruffy, and wearing a beanie he looked a little like the reggae/hip-hop artist Matisyahu. But that’s where the similarity ended. Any rapper will tell you that at least 40% of it is moxie. And when he was up there on stage, timidly trying to hype the crowd, he just looked awkward. And out of place. Like he lost a bet, or like he was finally coming down from the manic episode that led up to his unfortunate debut but had to follow through anyway.
And I haven’t even gotten to the lyrics yet. Just awful. From what I could tell from all that slurring on stage, the song is a dance track. A poorly produced version of all the industry fodder that clogs up the airwaves and keeps drunken twenty-somethings shaking their vapid little booties all night long. If that doesn’t give you a good enough idea, his new album will be produced by Puff Daddy. Yikes.
To top off his terrible performance, he fell. Off of the stage. He didn’t really trip or anything. He just sort of hilariously toppled over. I think I'm going to blame drugs. I mean, I don’t want to start a rumor or anything. That statement was probably just my brain trying to rationalize the information the television has been giving it. Maybe he’s completely sober. Maybe, unlike his brother River, he emerged unscathed from his early years in a cult and as a child street performer. And maybe, unlike his brother, his inability to deal with the public eye are not signs of an inability to cope. Maybe.
Maybe I'm just a hater. Maybe he knows more about the good life than I do. Maybe he's just stretching his wings and is doing it in a different way than I would. Maybe its none of my business. But it was just so goddamn weird, I had to put it in my blog.
Maybe he knows more about rap than I do. Yup, that's right. In case you missed it, Joaquin Phoenix the actor is now Joaquin Phoenix the rapper. I couldn't make this shit up. I want to believe (despite watching actors like Britney Spears pack on the pounds and engage in, albeit less 'artistic', erratic behavior in a similar fashion before her meltdown) that his transition into rap music is part of his dynamic personality, and not a slow spiral into madness.
But the signs aren't good. If Joaquin is in his right mind, he definitely doesn’t look it. And I like chubby, hairy artistic types. But on him it looks less natural and more a sign of depression. It just does. And that’s before I saw the YouTube clip of his awkward performance.
As 34-year-old Joaquin head bobbed his way onstage on Saturday at Las Vegas’ club LAVO, he at least looked the part. Appropriately scruffy, and wearing a beanie he looked a little like the reggae/hip-hop artist Matisyahu. But that’s where the similarity ended. Any rapper will tell you that at least 40% of it is moxie. And when he was up there on stage, timidly trying to hype the crowd, he just looked awkward. And out of place. Like he lost a bet, or like he was finally coming down from the manic episode that led up to his unfortunate debut but had to follow through anyway.
And I haven’t even gotten to the lyrics yet. Just awful. From what I could tell from all that slurring on stage, the song is a dance track. A poorly produced version of all the industry fodder that clogs up the airwaves and keeps drunken twenty-somethings shaking their vapid little booties all night long. If that doesn’t give you a good enough idea, his new album will be produced by Puff Daddy. Yikes.
To top off his terrible performance, he fell. Off of the stage. He didn’t really trip or anything. He just sort of hilariously toppled over. I think I'm going to blame drugs. I mean, I don’t want to start a rumor or anything. That statement was probably just my brain trying to rationalize the information the television has been giving it. Maybe he’s completely sober. Maybe, unlike his brother River, he emerged unscathed from his early years in a cult and as a child street performer. And maybe, unlike his brother, his inability to deal with the public eye are not signs of an inability to cope. Maybe.
Maybe I'm just a hater. Maybe he knows more about the good life than I do. Maybe he's just stretching his wings and is doing it in a different way than I would. Maybe its none of my business. But it was just so goddamn weird, I had to put it in my blog.
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