Religious Scholar

It was encouraging this morning to read a letter to the editor in The New York Times from a Lutheran minister vigorously attacking the hierarchical context that allowed the human rights abuses of the Irish Catholic Church to exist for so many years.

Lest we think for a moment, however, that the Lutherans are the unilateral good guys in this debate, we need to recall that one of the most conspicuous forms of human rights abuse is the relegation of women to subservient, often sexually-defined roles within the religious system. In this expression of sexual abuse, the Lutheran faith is not entirely blameless.

Depending on whose statistics we accept, from one-third to one-half of baptized Lutherans in the United States subscribe to the doctrine that women are not worthy to serve as professional ministers: that women who hear the “call to serve” in this vocation are either deluded or mistaken. Perhaps what they hear is a Divine call to host the covered dish supper!

In its favor, the branch now known as the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America has been ordaining women since the 1970s (still a paltry time span given the 2,000-year history of Christianity). Representing between 2.9 million and 4.7 million adherents, this branch may represent the majority of Lutherans in the United States.

In favor of discrimination against women and keeping them “in their place” are the Missouri Synod and Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod, representing between 2.8 million and 3.0 million baptized members. According to some statistical jugglers, the numbers of pro- and anti-female ordination supporters are about even.

Perhaps if we framed sexual discriimination as a form of sexual abuse there would be a greater hue and cry in the media against the oppression of women by male-dominated religious hierarchies. As it stands, we are grateful that the media acknowledge this disparity at all. They would probably rally even more behind the issue of female ordination and its immeasurable consequences for women, from the cradle to the grave, were they able to take religion in the least bit seriously.

Do young people still have idols? I don’t mean “American Idol” idols. I mean super-role-model idols, held up as pillars of excellence by teachers and lauded by the kinds of media likely to be accessed by the young.

In my early years, there were plenty of idols: Lindbergh, for example. Thomas Jefferson. George Washington. Rabindranath Tagore, Richard Wagner. The list goes on and on, mostly male, usually white, but exhibiting universal virtues.

There is no doubt that the deeds of these worthies were laudable. But their haloes have tarnished, at least in terms of their treatment of and attitude toward others. Lindbergh’s solo flight over the Atlantic Ocean was a remarkable act of courage and intelligence. But now we know he kept a second family in Germany: he was a liar who misrepresented himself to his wife, children, and society at large.

Jefferson and Washington kept slaves, an idea so repellent today to lovers of liberty that it almost defies comprehension. And Jefferson may have forced his attentions on at least one enslaved woman in his household.

Tagore, a respected Indian intellectual and poet, gave his 12 and 14-year-old daughters in marriage to much older men, an offense which would be deemed criminal in our time.

Wagner composed music that uplifted the human spirit, but his writings are filled with anti-Semitism and hate; some say he helped to inspire the racism of Nazi Germany.

We can separate the positive from the negative in these men’s lives, but it is difficult to fill shoes lately worn by feet of clay. When idols crumble, it is almost like losing faith in the Divine: the archetype vanishes, and even the exemplary achievements of the deposed idol seem a little less awe-inspiring.

As our society becomes more inclusive and respectful of human rights, perhaps it is time we looked to ideal concepts rather than the figures of god-like individuals, who inevitably fail to pass the test of ethical leadership. Perhaps we are our own best idols, not for what we are, but for the potential of what we can achieve and be, in a world increasingly sensitive to issues of justice, fairness, and equality.

St. Francis was right: all living beings, even the sun and moon, are our brothers and sisters. As Thoreau averred, "All Nature is my bride." I came across this family of deer in a thicket at Mercer County Park on April 7, 2009. I felt as though in the presence of something mysterious and sublime. I am sure there are plenty of people , though, who would look at this photo and think, "Lunch!" :-)

Spiritual people come in many forms. Some are zealful, energetic, and outgoing. Others are thoughtful, reserved, and contemplative. Recently surveying some Protestant Web sites, I was intrigued by the abundant images of people in tee-shirts sweeping, laying bricks, picking up litter, and so forth. These are all worthy acts and celebrated in all religious traditions (see Thich Nhat Hanh's many books that honor the act of washing dishes). Indeed, H.D. Thoreau seems to have spent a great deal of time engaged in manual labor, with his spiritual life none the worse for it.

These activities do not appeal to everyone, however.  Some among us are confirmed "pew potatoes," for example, and, in the timeless words of Seinfeld, "there's nothing wrong with that." Others wouldn't be caught dead wearing a tee-shirt (not when when we live in a world of washable velvet and no-wrinkle silk). Manual labor has its place in the world, but is not exactly a magnet for every type of spiritual person. So perhaps we should diversify our religious Web sites to show the abundance of ways in which the spiritual life can be lived, suitable not only for those who sweep, but also those who have quiet discussions and read books under a tree. For every Martha, there is a Mary; for every Yang, a Yin.

Thoreau has been dismissed as a mere observer of the natural world in the years following the completion of his masterpiece, Walden. But there was always more to his relationship with Nature than simply naming plants and recording the behavior of animals. Invited by the Association for the Advancement of Science to describe his special interests, the usually scientific Thoreau demurred, and in fact, even challenged the purely scientific objectivity with which his methods are often linked. In his Journal for March 5, 1853, he disclosed his true relationship with the environment:

“...I felt that it would be to make myself the laughing-stock of the scientific community to describe or attempt to describe to them that branch of science which specially interests me, inasmuch as they do not believe in a science which deals with the higher law. So I was obliged to speak to their condition and describe to them that poor part of me which alone they can understand. The fact is, I am a mystic, a transcendentalist, and a natural philosopher to boot. Now I think of it, I should have told them at once that I was a transcendentalist. That would have been the shortest way of telling them that they would not understand my explanations.”

Like Einstein in the 20^th century, and all scientist-philosophers who seek meaning beyond appearances, Thoreau found spiritual truth in the mystery that lies at the core of the phenomenal universe: as the Upanishads call it, that by which the eyes see, the ears hear, the mind perceives. The natural world may be known through science, but the mysterious essence remains elusive, always the realm of religion, dreams, and art.