cellio: (mandelbrot)
I've seen interfaith dialogue work really well, kind of ineptly, and really, really badly.1 I've noticed some things that make a difference in where on the spectrum an effort is likely to fall. So, some observations.

To people who are interested in it at all, religion is generally an important and deeply personal subject. If not handled well, it can also be extremely polarizing -- wars, pogroms, and jihads have been conducted over religion, to say nothing of people merely getting beat up. Some perceive a critical duty to convert or "save" others, and setting aside that duty would be wrong. And it seems that everybody has an opinion about those heretics over there who are destroying the world. How do you bring people together under these circumstances? How do you have a civil conversation that sheds more light than heat? It's tempting to say that this is fundamentally impossible, except that, as I said, I've seen it work sometimes.

First, of course, everybody needs to actually be there for the purpose of learning and sharing. If people are there primarily to preach, then just give up -- you cannot have a dialogue under those conditions. (In my experience, this is particularly a problem with evangelical Christians, but certainly not only them.). But even if everybody has the right intentions, there are pitfalls. And that's what I'm going to talk about in this entry -- presuming that people have good intentions, what else can go wrong?

I see two critical elements beyond the right intentions: the language people use, and how these conversations are moderated.

Language

When interacting with people who you know are wrong -- not just wrong, but idolaters, heretics, or blasphemers -- it's critical to avoid truth assertions and to use descriptive language. It's one thing to say that "we believe X" or "we read this biblical passage to say Y" or "we connect with God by doing Z". It's quite another to say that "X is true" or "this means Y" or "the correct way to connect with God is by doing Z". You would think this would be obvious, but it fails over and over and over again.

Look, I know deep in my heart that certain religions are wrong, and that some people have tragically rejected God. And some know deep in their hearts that I'm a stubborn idiot who has thrown the gift of salvation in their savior's face and who is going to hell as a result. These things happen. Get over it. We will never persuade each other, but as soon as somebody says "Jesus died for your sins" or "treating a man as God is idolatry" or, more subtly, "when Isaiah prophesied the messiah as the suffering servant he said...", you've elected to shut down dialogue and fire up a fight. And if the people you're talking with are extremely gracious, they might be able to defuse it... once. Or might not. If you want to have a respectful conversation, you just shouldn't go there.

Why is this hard? It shouldn't be, but it fails enough to make me wonder. I think part of the problem is that some traditions have a bombastic preaching style, plus street-corner and TV evangelists, and this dulls everyone's sensitivities. It becomes perfectly normal to accuse another of killing God or of refusing to submit to God's will or of rejecting the law. It may seem normal, but it's wrong. Unless the terms of a discussion explicitly allow this kind of heated discourse, you have to leave the "I know the truth and I must proclaim it to all!" rhetoric at the door. Because to at least one person in the room, you are Deeply Wrong -- and that person might be willing to argue the point. Loudly, like you. And then we all lose, because you lose any claim that you are interested in learning and listening.

Moderation

It's human nature to mess this stuff up. It's hard for people to learn a new style of interacting, one that may run counter to what they hear regularly in their places of worship. So the other key is moderation.

Somebody has to oversee the conversation and nip problems in the bud. If a particular community has an ongoing interfaith dialogue it might be possible, in time, for the community itself to perform this moderation -- the regulars will help guide the newcomers, gently steering them toward the kinds of interactions that work, and if necessary being more firm. That's a great goal -- but you don't get it right out of the gate, and sometimes you never get it at all. So it's important that, regardless of the good intentions of everybody in the room, there be someone who has the community-granted authority to say "stop" or "let's talk about X instead".

This is a skill and must be learned. Some seminaries teach "people skills" and psychology and systems alongside bible and theology, and plenty of lay people are exposed to training in these areas professionally. And we all (I hope) know someone who's a natural diplomat, who may not have any formal training but just knows how to defuse problems and redirect discussions. These people, whether trained or instinctive, are essential.

There's a challenge to being a moderator, though -- you're there at all because you care about the subject, but moderators are accountable to the whole community. So, first and foremost, your job is to be fair. You've got to be willing to call out the people who are right, not just the ones who are wrong, so to speak. And that requires a special type of perception, to be able to listen to somebody who is speaking the Truth but doing it disruptively and to step in and say "no".

The usual failure of moderation is not having it. But sometimes the failure is of the other type -- there are moderators, but they're caught up in the content enough that they lose the ability to do their job for the whole community. They're great at challenging the heretics but not so great with the defenders of the faith. And once you lose the perception of fairness, it can be really hard to recover.

Bottom line

So, bottom line -- I think it's possible for interfaith dialogue to work, even on deeply personal and polarizing topics, if everybody works hard to keep it respectful and descriptive and if there are moderators who keep an eye on the discussion and apply correction as needed -- even at the cost of some of their own participation.

If a community can do that, it can have a productive discussion. If it can't, you may as well just give up on those idolaters and infidels -- it's not like they're going to listen to your preaching anyway (since they are, after all, idolaters and infidels), so you may as well just go home.



1 The original version of this post linked to a user-profile page that has since been deleted. I've updated the link to point to an explanation of that problem.
cellio: (tulips)
The tulips are starting to appear in my yard. We sure went from snow to spring-verging-on-summer in a hurry. But it's supposed to be in the 30s over the weekend.

The (expiration? best-by?) date on a frozen-food package is "Jul 19 2014". This raises two question: (a) such precision -- would July 20 really be different, and is July 18 better in that case? And (b) why isn't frozen food that's good for more than a few months immortal? What exactly is going to happen to my vegetarian corn dogs in a year and a quarter? (The question is academic; I'll have eaten them by next week.)

Someone on Mi Yodeya passed along these really nifty photos of a "teapot" that is so much more. He found it on Reddit, where the claim was that this was used by crypto-Jews during the inquisition. I'm not sure about that, but even if not... wow, cool. Like Russian nesting dolls on steroids. Take a look.

My rabbi blogs now, and I was particularly struck by this recent post about inter-faith relations and more. The part (attributed to someone else) about being neither jerks nor jellyfish when it comes to faith stood out for me.

I saw a job post recently for a (very) technical writer, principal-level, to do programming (API) documentation. That's pretty rare, so when something like that crosses my desk I always look even if it's neither local nor telecommute, to keep tabs on the state of the art if nothing else. On this one, as I was reading down the list of desired skills, past specified programming languages and technologies, past XML markup standards for documentation, I came to... MS Office. This is really not the tool for that particular task. It was then followed by DITA (an XML doc specification that makes DocBook look like child's play), Javadoc, and Arbortext Epic (a tool for editing XML-based documents). I guess somebody decided that throwing in more desired skills was better, or something. Either that or they're not actually doing any of this yet but they aspire to. Which is fine (I've done that), but not clear in the job description.
cellio: (torah scroll)
This is the d'var torah I gave yesterday morning. I recommend first reading Exodus 34:10-17.

Read more... )

cellio: (mars)
Simchat Torah: rejoicing with the torah )

Friday night a (curious gentile) friend went with me to services. I felt bad that, while much of the congregational Hebrew is transliterated, most of it is sung -- so she was facing not just linguistic barriers but also melodic ones. She seemed to be making a valiant effort, though, and she told me later that she found it fulfilling, so I'm glad I was able to help. I suggested that she try our morning service sometime too.

This week was B'reishit, the first portion of the torah. We are now reading the third aliya (of the traditional seven), so we got the part about the incident in the garden. My rabbi made a very good point in his sermon: this is not a story about good and evil, but about knowledge and mortality. So long as Adam and Chava were ignorant, they could live forever in the garden -- but if they were to eat from both the tree of life and the tree of knowledge, they would become like God -- immortal and all-knowing. So when they chose knowledge they had to give up immortality. Would any of us make a different choice? I know I wouldn't.

I guess this is why I don't really connect with the idea of original sin. Eating from the tree of knowledge was a necessary transition in human history, just as going into slavery in Egypt was a necessary transition for the Jewish people. It's not good or bad; it just is. Yes, they disobeyed a direct order from God, but the fact that they had that choice is significant. They were designed to be thinking beings, not automata, from the start -- and to think meaningfully, you need knowledge. (I should stress that this paragraph is purely me talking, and I don't know if my rabbi would agree with what I'm saying.)

This morning's service went well, except for the part where I misread the notation in the chumash and wound the scroll to the wrong spot. Not only that, but the portion begins in the middle of a long paragraph, so the beginning is hard to find. So we spent several minutes during the service trying to find the right spot. Oops. That's embarrassing.

Next week after morning services I'm going to give a short class on leading the torah service. This will allow more people, including those who don't actually want to read torah, to participate in the service. I have a good handout that I got this summer in the Sh'liach K'hilah program, so rather than roll my own I'm going to use that (with permission). It's an annotated copy of the service and includes transliteration for all the Hebrew, so people will be able to take that home and practice.


Last night we got some bad news. The sister of one of our teachers, and sister-in-law of our bar-mitzvah tutor (who reads torah at Tree of Life on weekdays, so I see him a lot), was killed in one of the bombings in Egypt. She was 27. Baruch dayan emet, and if I believed in hell I'd pray for all the bastards who attack innocent civilians to rot in it.

Yom Kippur

Sep. 26th, 2004 10:56 pm
cellio: (star)
Yom Kippur was a good experience this year.

this is long )

This afternoon I put up the sukkah. Yay new sukkah! I got one surprise, and maybe before next year I'll ask a friend with the right tools to help me. I ordered an 8x8 sukkah frame, the kind with the metal poles (technically "tubing") and connectors that you just hand-tighten (no tools!). I had gotten the impression that it was about 7 feet high, but it's really 8. If I had paid more attention to the packing list I would have figured that out two weeks ago when it came. The problem with an 8-foot-high sukkah is that I'm 5'3". Even standing on a ladder, it was difficult for me to get the s'chach (roofing material) up there. (Ok, it's not a big ladder. I have this thing about ladders. I really want a sukkah I can put up with a step-stool.) I'm hoping that a certain friend of mine has saws that can cut metal, so we can just lop a foot off of the vertical poles. Later -- I got it up for this year. And hey, it meant I didn't have to cut down the lattice I use for the walls this year. :-) (I had the hand-saw ready.)

So now I have a sukkah big enough that we can theoretically have guests more than singly or pair-wise (if friendly), though I still only have the one card table. I may pick up another card table and a couple more folding chairs. (The size increase was a side-effect; the goal was a free-standing sukkah that's easy to put up, and I succeeded there.)

cellio: (shira)
A quick aside: one of the articles I came home with is "Music in the Synagogue: When the Chazzan 'Turned Around'", by William Sharlin (CCAR Journal, Jan 1962). It asserts that when the chazzan (cantor, prayer leader) faced the ark (and thus had his back to the congregation), prayer -- both his and the congregation's -- could be more heart-felt, private, and perhaps spontaneous. However, when the chazzan started facing the congregation, everyone got self-conscious. So how do you find seclusion for prayer in that kind of situation? He raises the question but doesn't answer it. I'm not sure I accept his premise; it sounds plausible but I haven't thought a lot about it yet. But he could be right. I certainly did notice on Friday night that I wasn't sure what to do with myself, physically, during the silent prayer at the end of the Amidah, when I was facing the congregation.

On to outreach...

The instructor stressed that "outreach" really means two things to her -- ahavat ger, welcoming the stranger, and kiruv, drawing (everyone) near. Our goal should be to build welcoming communities in general, recognizing that we have a diverse community with different needs. She also scored points with me by saying we need to not neglect the knowledgable, committed Jews in the process, or assume that everyone is a family (with kids). Data point: the NJPS survey in 2000 found that only 20% of Jewish households consisted of two parents plus kids; we (she says, and I agree) under-serve 80% of our households. (She talked about some programs that the Reform movement encourages to aid in all this; we received literature. :-)

We also received some good checklists on the theme of "is your congregation user-friendly?". Some of the points are excessive in my opinion (e.g. they suggest that your yellow-pages ad include a map), but others are things we could definitely be doing better on.

During the conversion class we looked at two texts, Avram's covenant with God and Ruth's conversion to Judaism. I noticed two interesting things here. First, with Avram God is the priority; with Ruth it seems to be more about peoplehood, with God as a side-effect. Second, Avram is given some assurances by God; Ruth is making a leap of faith with no real basis for predicting the outcome. (Will she be accepted by these people?) At least Avram had an invitation. So I guess it makes sense that Ruth rather than Avram is the model for conversion, because most of us don't receive divine invitations to do anything these days, but Avram's story makes a better source in setting priorities IMO. Yeah, we're also a people, but I think God has to come first or what's the point? (I realize this view is controversial with some.)

I found the CCAR guide on conversion to be largely familiar, which isn't surprising. :-) (The guide post-dates my conversion but had clearly been in progress for some years. My rabbi didn't follow it, but he did a lot of the same things and surely had input into the guide.) The format is clever: they have the core guidelines in the center of the page, with commentary, alternatives, and suggestions for implementation around the outside. It sort of resembles a page of talmud, which can't have been an accident.

According to the guide there are six questions a would-be convert has to answer affirmatively before being accepted. (This is a necessary, not sufficient, condition.) My rabbi used those same six but added a single word to one of them when I had to answer them; he added the word "exclusively" to "if you should be blessed with children, do you promise to raise them as Jews?". I approve of his addition. While I'm all for being as welcoming as we can to interfaith families, I have seen too much evidence that a child raised with two religions ends up with zero, and if you aren't ready to raise your hypothetical children as Jews, perhaps you need to rethink whether you'll be able to keep Judaism alive in your home in other ways.

I note in passing that the CCAR resolution on patrilineal descent -- which doesn't quite say what many people think it does -- also requires an exclusive religion for the child. I wonder how widely this one is enforced; the class on education and curriculum brought up the problems of dealing with kids who alternate between your Sunday school and the church's, or who celebrate both Christmas and Chanukah. Of course, sometimes doctrine and poltiics are at odds with each other.

Sunday

Feb. 23rd, 2004 11:20 pm
cellio: (moon-shadow)
Sunday afternoon I went to that interfaith gathering. There were (at peak) 27 people there. It was moderated by the sole Baha'i. I was the only Jew; there were 7 or 8 Muslims (including Farooq Husseini and his wife, a pleasant surprise), two Quakers, I think one Buddhist, one person who said he was both Hindu and Christian (?), one or two others (specifics forgotten), and the rest Roman Catholics. Read more... )

In the evening we had a very pleasant dinner at [livejournal.com profile] ralphmelton's and [livejournal.com profile] lorimelton's house. Lots of good conversation; I enjoy spending time with this group of people. The cats were better-behaved than usual; I guess Louie was under the weather. :-)

cellio: (mandelbrot-2)
That interfaith discussion/presentation that I was talking about last week is this Sunday at 3pm at the Pittsburgh Interfaith Center, formerly known as St. Agnes Church, at 3333 Fifth Avenue. That's just before Craft if you're headed inbound (which is the only way you can legally go unless you're driving a bus). It's open to the public but poorly publicized; please feel free to show up if you're interested. The topic is prayer -- why we pray, what we pray for, what results we expect, and so on. (I suggested they include "to whom we pray", because not everyone is a monotheist with the same notion of God, but I don't know if they're taking that suggestion.)
cellio: (moon-shadow)
Well, that was, um, ...community service. :-)

A couple weeks ago I wrote about a local group that was trying to organize some interfaith prayer services. They wanted to add a Jew to their group, they contacted my rabbi, and he sent me. The organizational meeting was tonight. Read more... )

cellio: (moon-shadow)
The latest issue of Moment reproduces part of a catalogue page listing "communion wafers (kosher)". It makes me wonder who the target market is, but sadly, that information is absent.

But that's not what I'm here to write about...

My rabbi does a lot of interfaith work locally, mostly dialogue and education. I got a call from him on Friday asking if I could talk to some folks at a local college who are trying to do some sort of interfaith services; they want lay people for some reason, so they didn't want to talk to him. So I gave the person a call.

Read more... )

cellio: (moon)
Real Live Preacher (syndicated at [livejournal.com profile] preachermanfeed) wrote an interesting article, which he concluded as follows:

Ok, as long as I'm asking, could I get a letter officially confirming the existence of the God that I've given my whole life to following? Could that letter also tell me exactly where God is located? If "where" is an appropriate concept, that is.
This is the letter I'm sending him:


The God you have given your whole life to following is all around you. Not in that mystic "God is in everything" sense, but more directly. We are created b'tzeit elo[k]im, in the image of God; that can't be physical because God is not limited to a body, so what do you think that means? I think it means that there are echoes of God in people all around us. God is in the heavens (and no, we can't know "where"), but God's reflections are all around us. But you have to look and listen.

I pray to God, but it's the stranger on the street or the friend or the relative I interact with, and that is where Godly actions take place. Faith is nothing without action, after all. If I focus on the heavens alone, what good is anything I do?

Does God actually exist? Ask yourself if that really matters, if taking that as hypothesis leads you to live the kind of life you want to live. Why look for proof? Would it change anything?

When I became religious (I wasn't always) I found that something was pulling at me. I didn't know what it was, but I finally decided to hypothesize the existence of God, pray and act as if I believed it, and see what happened. I guess I'm a scientist (or perhaps an engineer) at heart. And you know what? I saw results. Not results that I could show to anyone else, mind you; that's not how it works. But results enough to convince me that there was in fact a God out there who gave a hoot about me. Pretty amazing stuff.

cellio: (Monica-old)
Sunday morning the Pennsic camp met for the annual post-mortem. Things actually went pretty well this year, so while there were issues to discuss, it wasn't all that long and involved. And everyone there agreed that there would be no problem with my leaving on the final Friday next year to avoid the Shabbat problems, which is good to hear.

Sunday evening we had dinner with Ralph, Lori, and Mike. It was a fairly normal dinner until the plumbing rebelled. Fortunately, Ralph has plumbing clues and was able to take the kitchen sink apart and find the clog. (Diagnosis: the disposal wasn't.) Unfortunately, that can't have been a pleasant way to spend the last part of the evening. I hope they're able to get it fixed fairly easily.

Last night at choir practice we went through the repertoire, deciding what to remove from the active repertoire and what to bring back (from previous culls). I was surprised by some of the choices; I didn't know anybody actually liked "Pastime with Good Company" or "Belle Qui". No accounting for taste, I suppose. :-) But *whimper*, people wanted to kill one of my favorites, "In Pace", a lovely three-part piece that just flows wonderfully. Oh well; maybe it'll come back in a year or two. Or maybe there'll be an opportunity for a subset of us to perform it at some point.

It sounds like the choir is going to do its usual concert of Christmas music for the 12th Night event, so I get to take a couple months off again. This is fine; I don't mind the break at all.

A couple of the non-Christmas songs that are coming back, and one new one that a group member is proposing, are problematic for me. I'll continue to just sit those out. Fortunately, the choir director understands the issues and is very accommodating -- much moreso than a previous director was. I'll never understand people who say "it doesn't matter what the words are if the music is pretty". (What this usually means, in my experience, is that their own sensitivities just haven't been bumped into, and they can't appreciate other peoples'.)

Last night after rehearsal some of us went to Dave & Buster's for dinner, which meant we got to watch Chris do impressive things with Pump It Up. One song in particular was quite impressive (level 5 and fast), but I didn't note its name.
cellio: (Default)
The machine on which I'm typing this has a Sun logo on it and kind of looks and behaves like a Mac. (I haven't used a Mac in several years. There's no uber-menu with the apple icon at the top of the screen, but maybe that can be disabled. They really only want people to use Netscape here at the con, after all.) I wonder what the heck this box is.

The Harry Potter book won the Hugo for best novel last night. I am disappointed. I haven't actually read any of the nominees, so I can't say what the best novel was this year, but I am highly skeptical that Harry Potter was it.

The winner for drammatic presentation was Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, and they showed it after the awards. I didn't see it in the theatre because I wasn't willing to spend 8 bucks to find out whether I would be able to read the subtitles (size, contrast, and speed of deployment being highly variable in these things), so I went to the free showing at the con. I missed the first couple minutes, but I don't think I missed anything essential. It was a decent movie, but I'm not really sure what all the fuss was about. (I'm also not really convinced that it's SF or fantasy. If you replaced the swords with guns would the movie still be elliglbe, or would it be a western?)

I will admit to some puzzlement at the ending. I suppose that was intentional. If both of them had taken the action taken by the woman, I would know the result; as only she took that action, I don't know if he got the desired results. (I'm being vague to avoid spoilers here, but won't be vague in any followup comments.)

This has been a pretty good con for programming -- better than I remember Bucky (Worldcon 3 years ago) being. I've only been to these two worldcons, so I can't generalize.

We shared the convention space with a group called "For His Glory" this weekend. (They seem to have disappeared Sunday afternoon.) They are obviously a Christian group, though I don't know what specific denomination. (They were most prominent Sunday morning, when several hundred were gathered -- all wearing white robes -- and singing and drumming. Kind of neat to listen to.) They were very polite and easy to share space with; no proselytizing, no public evangelizing, no in-your-face tactics, no pamphlets. But friendly to talk to in the elevators and the like. I hope that the anti-Christian (and anti-religion-in-any-form) elements of fandom were paying attention; for a community that gets branded (often unfairly) as dangerous weirdos, you'd think fans would be a little more open-minded about other groups.

I was on two panels yesterday. The SCA/fandom one was poor; the other person did show up (late), but didn't go to the green room beforehand. So we had no opportunity to figure out what we were going to do. It turned into heavy audience participation, which is good, but the audience contained one annoying person who would not shut up or stay on topic, and we had to stomp on him a few times. That was kind of frustrating. (Also frustrating: I spottee some friends there, Justin and Caitlin from Carolingia, but I had to run off to my other panel so I didn't get to talk with them. And I haven't seen them since.)

The other panel, on performing with other people, went pretty well. It was a fun group of people to be with, and it looked like the audience was enjoying it. It would have been nice if we'd been able to continue the conversation informally, but there was a concert immediately after (that one of the panelists was in), so we all went to that instead.

Three Weird Sisters is a good band, by the way. I don't think I had heard them before. There are three of them (duh); all sing, and the instruments are wire-strung harp, guitar, bodhran, and string bass. I picked up their CD, which I gather they just released.

Apropos of nothing, I have noticed a much higher density of wheelchairs at this con than in the general public. I wonder whether this says something about who's attacted to fandom, or about Philly, or about Worldcon, or what. (It could be the last: Worldcons tend to be kind of spread out, so people who might normally not use a chair might need to here.)

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