“Ok, ward, this year, we’re going to read the Book of Mormon straight through!”

“But I just barely finished it….”

“Don’t care! Read it again!”

So, in the vein of my old bishop, I am going to issue all of you a challenge. Hopefully this will be a little more enlightening, and exciting, than reading the BoM. (Chloroform in print, as Mark Twain put it.) I challenge all of you to read a book this year that you disagree with. All the way through, no skipping the boring parts. If your ideas and beliefs are solid, then you should have no problems with this. If your ideas need some tweaking, that’s okay. You will have learned something.

Personally, I think I will be reading either Atlas Shrugged or The Fountainhead. I despise Ayn Rand. *ducks to avoid flung tomato*  I don’t care if you guys like her, I don’t, so feel free to tell me what ideas/authors you disagree with.

What are you guys going to read?

The most disturbing thing about this is that not all of these kids were orphans. And these people knew it.

The orphanage where the children were later taken said some of the kids have living parents, who were apparently told the children were going on a holiday from the post-quake misery……

One [8-year-old] girl was crying, and saying, “I am not an orphan. I still have my parents.”

Laura Silsby the groups spokesperson, claimed that she hadn’t been following news reports while in Haiti, and didn’t think she needed the Haitian government’s permission to take them out of the country. This statement seems either dishonest, or woefully ignorant. Did she really think she could just haul children out of the country and their government wouldn’t care? I can’t claim to know much about the Haitian government; it’s not exactly a common avenue of study for most of us. But despite what Silsby seems to think, the Haitian people don’t live in free-for-all anarchy. They have laws, leaders. They have a prime minister. It strikes me as somewhat racist to assume that Haiti won’t have rules about kidnapping it’s children.

An article on NPR brings up the idea that some families may have given over their kids willingly, to have a chance at a better life. It isn’t unheard of in third world countries like Haiti.

Marie Rita Pierre said, “I would allow one of these groups to take one of my children. My youngest daughter wants to go to university. We can’t help her. I think its good groups come here to take kids, even though most of the time they will lose touch with their families.”

That is an extremely difficult decision fort a parent to make. And while this may have been the case for some of the children, what about the parents who were told their kids were “going on a holiday”? A holiday implies they will return safe and sound to their families once the country is more stable. Not given to strangers looking to do some kidnapping for Christ.

The group claims they were only trying to do what is right. I have no doubt the mean it. The problem is, their warped ideal of what is “right” is highly subjective. They feel that taking little kids from their parents and placing them with Christian families is right.

“One of the reasons that our church wanted to help is because we believe that Christ has asked us to take the gospel of Jesus Christ to the whole world, and that includes children,” Henry, the senior pastor, said.

However, I feel this is wrong. As do the Haitian government, the local religious leaders, and pretty much anyone with a sense of decency. Max Beauvoir, head of Haiti’s Voodoo Priest’s Association, summed it up quite nicely:

“There are many who come here with religious ideas that belong more in the time of the Inquisition. These types of people believe they need to save our souls and our bodies from ourselves. We need compassion, not proselytizing now, and we need aid — not just aid going to people of the Christian faith.”

If you still want to defend these people, do this for me: I want you to imagine that you are a parent of one of these kids. Your home has been destroyed. Fire, screaming, smoke. Nearly everyone you know and love is dead. You stumble from the wreckage with what’s left of your  family, looking for help. Somehow, in the panic, your child dissapears. There by your side one moment, then gone the next. Imagine the panic at losing your only surving loved one, the last thing you had to cling to. Or even worse, what if some rescuers volunteered to take your baby somewhere safe, until things calmed down. You are so grateful to these kind people, so selflessly helping you, until you find out your baby is in an orphanage, and they had no intention of bringing them home.  How would you feel?

Kid 1: Where do you go to church?

Kid 2: I don’t go to church.

Kid 1: If you don’t go to church, that means you don’t love everyone. It means you hate me.

Kid 2 just ducked his head and kept coloring, while the rest of the table continued to question him. I could see his cheeks turn red in embarrassment. This broke my heart.  I love teaching little kids because of their love and acceptance towards everyone. Somehow, this cute little girl had lost these qualities.

I have made it a point to avoid all discussions of religion at school. I am a teacher, and it would be inappropriate. However, I couldn’t just let this kind of bullying slide. I took a seat at the end of the table, and started coloring with them. I hoped my presence would be enough to stop the conversation, but apparently I’m not exactly an intimidating figure.  The kids kept badgering the little the boy, who was holding his own.

“You can’t love everyone if you’re not Mormon,” insisted the little girl. Her face was twisted unpleasantly in anger.

“Nuh uh,” said the little boy, “(a certain teacher) isn’t Mormon.”

It’s true. The teacher in question is Catholic, and she is one of the greatest people I know. The little girl was blown away. In her mind, anyone who was not Mormon should have fangs and and horns, apparently. She went back to coloring with a dazed look, as if her world had been fundimentally shaken. I can’t blame this little girl for her predujice. She’s 9. She doesn’t know any better. The fault lies with her parents and Sunday school teachers. Where are the lessons about loving thy neighbor? The story about the good Samaritan? I don’t know if they blatantly told her that non-Mormons aren’t as good as them, or it was implied, but either way is unnaceptable. I would feel just as horrified about a little girl who said that all Christians are stupid. Or a little kid who said that blacks are inferior to whites. Prejudice of any kind is wrong to instill in a child, and all of us should know better.

However, I do have hope for this little girl. She learned an important lesson when she realized she couldnt’ tell the Mormons from the Non-Mormons. She couldn’t pick out her fellows by “their special glow” or their “spirit”.  I am hopeful that she will realize that everyone is deserving of respect and love, no matter what their beliefs. I hope all of us can realize that too.

1. “Excellent Special FX throughout”
2. “The best fantasy epic since Lord of the Rings”
3. “There aren’t enough good fights”
4. “Three stars, because the paper was too thin”
5. “One of the most disjointed novels I’ve read in a long while”
6. “Almost preachy in tone”
7. “Good ending”
8. “The Lord hath no scorn like the scorn reserved for one-star reviewers”
9. “Who wrote this thing, Michael Moore?”
10. “Definitely not his best work”

*Warning: There is some strong language, as I have left it just as the author first published. Read at your own risk if you are easily offended.*

Picture it: The Paranormal Bender Tour, Day One. March 10, let the record reflect. After a late start to our travels, Mark, Mario, Caitlin and I found ourselves approaching California. There upon the border, we spied a fruit checkpoint. Yes, a fruit checkpoint. Looks like a toll booth. Makes everybody stop before crossing that blessed state line, and be subjected to an interrogation on the subject of fruit.

I had never heard of such a thing.

At first I thought this was some kind of weird pop quiz, like before you’re allowed to come into California you must demonstrate that you know the difference between an orange and a clementine, with bonus points for correctly identifying a nectarine, or something like that. Since I am from Florida where we also grow a great deal of fruity-type substances, I was pretty confident of my ability to pass such a quiz, and therefore suspected that I’d be an excellent spokesperson in the event of tollbooth citrus Jeopardy.

In fact, the point of this checkpoint is to make sure that we, as ostensibly law-abiding citizens, were not bringing unauthorized fruit into the state of California. I had no idea there was any such thing as “unauthorized” fruit, much less that California would be so vigorously on guard against it.*

But you learn something new every day, I suppose, and when we finally drew up to the booth, Mark rolled down the window. Inside the booth was a woman with a ponytail and a fondness for pink sparkly lipgloss. She had a wad of gum in her mouth. She leaned very slightly towards the Impala**.

Fruit checkpoint lady: [:: snaps her gum ::] You got any fruit?
Mark: Um… no?
Mario: [:: quietly, from the backseat ::] We got a fruitbat.
Fruit checkpoint lady: Okay. Have a nice day.
Mark: Thanks!

We cackled to ourselves for the next few miles, imagining what it would be like if we actually had a fruitbat stashed on board. And somehow, out in the craggy hills of northern California, what began as a whispered giggle took on a life of its own. It blossomed. It snowballed.

Caitlin named the imaginary fruitbat “Steve.” Someone came up with a baseline theology: “Thou shalt not be a douchebag.” And lo, Steve did enter our hearts and we were blessed with divine understanding!

Before long, we had a full set of “battitudes” — including (but not limited to) such inspired declarations as, “Blessed are the fabulous, for they shall have doors opened for them everywhere.” “Blessed are the groovy, for they shall get down forever.” “Blessed are the goths, for they come pre-accessorized for this faith.”

Steve’s communion wafers are Doritos, for they are shaped like his mighty wings. And also, for they were what I’d picked up from the last gas station.

Steve accepts no tithes nor donations. Steve ain’t in it for the cash.

Steve urges us to love the douchebag, but hate the douchebaggery.

He requires no house of worship; anyplace where a polite, considerate person is mindful of others … there you will find him.

And we spoke of the things which Steve would endorse, and revile:

Steve greatly loveth all things sweet and squishy, and he sheds his mercy upon those who correctly use their blinkers; likewise, he smiles upon drivers who know how to merge, and who can correctly form a fucking zipper for God’s sake;*** and his heart is warmed by salespeople who leave you alone while you’re trying on clothes. He is gladdened to see bartenders who don’t skimp the sauce. He is pleased by those who share their Doritos.

But Steve abhors a faux-hawk. He is much offended by posers who roll up one pants leg even though they haven’t ridden a bicycle since third grade; and he loathes a man in a neckerchief. Steve does not ever want to hear you shout, “WOOOOO!” in a crowded elevator just because you’re drunk and it’s Vegas and you’re with your girlfriends. High-heeled flip-flops are an abomination — doubly so if you’re three sheets to the wind and counting.

It took on a life of its own.

Before long, we were speculating sadly about how Steve needs to shine his goodness and light down upon that asshole taxi-driver who rode our bumper in San Francisco and honked wildly all the while; we considered how badly Steve’s influence was needed among the bitchy, liquored-up grandmas at the slot machines in the Bellagio; and we marveled at how his kindness could have improved the service at that Starbucks.

So, What Would Steve Do? Well, Steve would probably walk forward on his wee little elbows and nom a bit of fruit. But he wouldn’t be a dick about it, that’s for damn sure.

Now all we need are some chick tracts and an outreach program, and baby, we are golden.

---

* Though we concluded that “Clandestine Banana” would make an awesome band name.
** Which is to say, the Kia Rondo we named “Impala.”
*** We spent a lot of time driving in southern California, okay?

I have to say, I love the commandments. High heeled flip flops are trashy, and “don’t be a douche” pretty much sums up everything you’d need to know.

May Steve’s glorious wings enfold you all. Steve be with you.

The ASUSU people had a list of questions for the panel of representatives. The topics included the war in Iraq, health care reform, gay marriage, etc. The usual list of questions you would expect. For the most part, everyone’s answers were very rational and well thought out. All the speakers made sure to distinguish their personal opinions from their groups opinions, which I thought was fantastic. Even the Republican was sounding level headed and reasonable. (Sorry guys, you usually kind of annoy me. It’s the truth.) Until, of course, it got to gay marriage.

“I am for civil unions, but I believe that gay marriage undermines the sanctity of marriage. It is a religious institution.”  Now, I’m paraphrasing here, but it doesn’t really matter. This is the same general response you will here from anyone who opposes gay marriage, no matter what their political party. Not only did hearing this irk me as a decent human being, it irked me on another level as an atheist.  I knew I needed to speak up.

When Spencer Lee handed me the mic, I was a little nervous about what I was planning to say, but I took a deep breathe and began. “My question is for the Republican. If marriage is a religious institution, why can I get married as an atheist?” He looked a bit taken aback. “Are you an atheist?” he asked. Moment of truth: “Yes, I am,” I said, throwing as much confidence into my words as possible.

There was a collective  “Oh, snap!” from the audience. The Republican wiggled a bit, and said something about it not mattering, as long as I was marrying a man. (While he was saying this, I made a point of holding Anna’s hand.)

I don’t tell you all this just to blow my own horn. I certainly wasn’t the only one asking great questions and pointing out the fallicy of the idea of “the sanctity of marriage”. The thing I want to point out is that I was given a chance to use my atheism for a good cause. Speaking up like I did that day goes against my general view towards debates: I don’t care, because it isn’t worth fighting about. I try to avoid debates about religion because they are a waste of time. No one will be conviced on either side, and everyone just gets upset. But in this case where standing up did make a difference. I have the same rights a Christian does to marry. Homosexual couples don’t. I had an opportunity to use my atheism to point out hypocrisy, and let me tell you, it felt great.

Why September 30?  The last day in September is the anniversary of the original publication of Danish cartoons in 2005 depicting the prophet Muhammad’s face.  Any visual depiction of Muhammad is considered a grave offence under Islamic law.

The fury which arose within the Islamic community following this publication led to massive riots, attacks on foreign embassies and deaths.

The newspapers which chose to publish these cartoons were in many cases blamed for the outpouring of violence which followed.  This unfortunate yet inevitable sequence of events clearly demonstrated a dangerous misconception that had piggy-backed into the 21st century on the shoulders of ignorance, fear and apathy, that all religious beliefs and ideas deserve respect and are beyond criticism or satire.

International Blasphemy Day is a movement, not just a day, to remind the world that religion should never again be beyond open and honest discussion or reproach.  Our future depends on it.

But don’t get too cocky, Christians. You guys aren’t exactly big on free speech yourselves.

Thousands of Muslims gathered Friday on Capitol Hill for a day of prayer that organizers said was intended to inspire American Muslims and non-Muslims alike.

…

Organizers had hoped that 50,000 people would show up for the Friday afternoon prayer session, which took place at the foot of the U.S. Capitol.

There were also anti-Muslim protesters near the event.

*sigh*  Of course there were. Malik, one of the prayer day organizers, says that he has gotten “really nasty e-mails”. Check out what one Christian had to say about the event.

“It is important for Christians to understand that Friday’s Muslim prayer initiative is part of a well-defined strategy to Islamize American society and replace the Bible with the Koran, the cross with the Islamic crescent and the church bells with the Athan [the Muslim call to prayer],” the Rev. Canon Julian Dobbs, leader of the Convocation of Anglicans in North America’s Church and Islam Project, said in a written statement. “The time has come for the American public to call Islam to account,” he said.

Now, I don’t agree with the teachings of Islam any more than I do with Christianity. I think they are both equally silly. I certainly don’t believe in the power of prayer. But one thing I do believe in is the right you have to pray. These people were there legally and peacefully, and if it makes them feel better to pray for America, then good for them. If you try to silence everyone you don’t agree with, eventually someone else will try to silence YOU. Freedom of (and, in our case, from) religion is a two way street.

So let’s use Blasphemy Day to remind everyone that nothing is above criticism. Let’s use the rights we have been given. What do you guys think? What are some good ways to celebrate Blasphemy Day without being to offensive? Remember, we want to spark discussion, not seriously hurt peoples’ feelings.

Through the eyes of the H1N1 virus, a Catholic church is a playground. The font of holy water near the church entrance is a great place for the virus to leap from one person to another. The passing of the peace, during which parishioners shake hands, is yet another favorite place for the virus. And then there’s Communion: The priest puts the host, or wafer, on a parishioner’s tongue or into the person’s hand, and then does the same for the next person. Often, he then serves wine from a common cup. It’s wiped clean each time, but that’s no guarantee it’s virus-free.

Bishop Mitchell Rozanski of Baltimore said these rituals have prompted a flood of questions.

“How should we deal with the distribution of Holy Communion?” he said. “Should we stop shaking hands at the sign of peace? Should we take [out] the holy water fonts as soon as the flu season begins?”

Rozanski is asking priests to use lots of hand sanitizer. But the bishop said a word from health officials that a pandemic has started could lead him to shut down churches.

Like Rozanski, Rabbi Moshe Waldoks at Temple Beth Zion in Brookline, Mass., has been thinking about swine flu a lot lately. The High Holy Days begin Friday, and he expects about 900 people at services. He’ll ask his congregants to greet each other a little differently this year. “I’m suggesting bowing to each other with a little Buddhist bow,” he said, “or the Obama fist bump could really be very good.”

And what about passing the Torah around the congregation? Some people kiss it, while others touch their prayer shawls to it. “I might say before we walk around with it, ‘If you’ve any concerns about stuff, this year maybe offer a wave instead of a kiss,’ ” Waldoks said. “I’m sure the Torah will understand.”

For Muslims, Friday prayers are the centerpiece of the faith and a potential viral hotbed. Imam Johari Abdul-Malik of Dar Al Hijrah Islamic Center in Falls Church, Va., says 3,000 people come to worship there each week. “They stand shoulder to shoulder. They put their faces on the carpet and remember someone’s going to come behind them and prostrate with their face on the carpet,” he says.

Malik says that if flu breaks out, the leaders may ask people to bring in their own prayer rugs. The mosque may tell people to spread out more when they pray and amend the ritual cleansing before prayer, in which people visit a special washroom to gargle and wash their feet.

The imam said believers are loath to change these rituals because they’re so deeply rooted in the Quran. “How do you now convince them that what they used to do is now not permissible?” he asked. For example, Malik says, the Quran says that when two believers shake hands in greeting, their sins fall away. Some people may feel cheated of blessing if they have to stop that practice. “You come to the mosque, and nobody wants to shake your hand, no one’s going to embrace you. You’re like, ‘What’s going on? What’s kind of place is this? Where are the blessings?’ ” he said. “And you have to say, ‘Today the blessing is in resisting shaking hands.’ “

If any of you have an irrational belief (and everybody does), I encourage you to take a second look at it. Do some research, and ask yourself, Does this make sense? It can be hard, and a little bit scary, to get rid of long held beliefs. Sometimes you need to let them go one at a time, weening yourself off of superstition. Finding the distinction between truth and lies is a life long battle that everyone is fighting. But everytime you throw off a silly superstition, whether it is religion or avoiding black cats, it brings you that much closer to the truth.

“Hi, I’m your bishop,” he began, and then broke off, studying my face. “Weren’t you in my high school math class?”  I could only nod dumbly. This was really surreal, and I knew this situation had the potential to get very awkward very fast. luckily for me, he continued on before the silence became too uncomfortable.

“I got your letter,” he said, “and I wanted to let you know, we’ve respected your wishes and sent a conformation back to Salt Lake. I You are welcome back to any of the meetings, or at block parties, or anything like that. We’d love for you to be involved. If you ever need anything, my phone number’s is at the bottom,” He handed me a folded paper as he said this. “It’s a copy of the letter I sent to Salt Lake. Once again, I want to respect your wishes.”

“Thanks,” I managed, a little chocked up by his kindness, “I really appreciate that.” And I do.  His respect for me made this whole experience a positive one, rather than the nightmare I expected it to be. I now have a deep respect for this man, and I may take him up on his offer to join in at a block party. If all the ward members are as open as their bishop, I think we’ll get along just fine.

If any of you blog or Twitter, spread the word. Let people know. If any of you live in or around Maine, please get out there and help. If you can’t be there, but would still like to help, you can donate. You can find out all about the cause and how to get involved here.

As Paul Fidalgo points out…

… in 2008, Hurricane Gustav caused widespread damage throughout the gulf region of the South. It didn’t hit Florida directly, but four people were killed on Florida beaches due to resulting rip currents. So I suppose that means God was keen on the landmass of Florida, just not so much all the people living in it.

And it’s not as though Florida has seen no storm activity since Saint Charlie took office. In 2007 alone, Tropical or Subtropical Storms Andrea, Barry and Ingrid, plus another unnamed tropical depression, made landfall in Florida. And in 2008, Tropical Storm Fay hit Florida four times — a record — killing six Floridians.

I wonder how the families of those killed feel about Crist’s boast?

Wow, word travels fast on the internet. Literally moments after I jokingly threatened legal action against the Mormon church for ignoring my requests, I got a call from my bishop. I didn’t answer the phone, since I am terrified of them, but I listened to his voicemail. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy, and I feel bad that he has to get involved. He shouldn’t have to deal with this. I think I will go ahead and write to the church offices again, and tell them to leave this poor guy out of it. You see, Mormons are just like anybody else; there are a few jerks and nutjobs among them, but most of them are nice people. It’s the church itself I have a problem with. It’s the doctrine of fear and control that makes me angry. It is a shame that I have to hurt good people in order to leave a horrible religion.

In a surprisingly short time, I received a reply. Their letter said that “The Church considers this an ecclesiastical matter,” and that they would inform have my bishop come talk to me. I had never met this bishop, nor have I since then. Three weeks later, and I haven’t heard from anyone. I’ll be sending them another letter soon, asking exactly what the hell they think they are doing.

I find it frustrating that they will not do what I ask. It can not be an ecclesiastical issue if I don’t say it is. The only authority they have over me is the authority I give them. I don’t have to play along. Although, I do think it would be rather fun to sit through an ex-communication ceremony, just to see what it’s like, and to try to drop some jaws with my heathen ways. From what I’ve heard, though, they don’t really let you get a word in edgewise.

Delegates voted against the measure 503-490. The proposal needed a two-thirds majority to pass.
However, they did overwhelmingly decide to allow gay marriage. Just so long as the one being married isn’t a pastor, I suppose….

The Rev. G. Scott Cady of the New England Synod said that rejecting gay pastors was essentially rejecting God’s plan. “We have vacant pulpits and altars in congregations all over this country, We have people crying out for pastoral care,” he said. “The Holy Spirit has said, `All right, here they are. Here they are.’ Are we going to now say, `Thanks Holy Spirit, but we prefer something else.’” I this guy. We need more Christians like that.

However, even the most conservative Lutheran’s feel it is only a matter of time before this rule is overturned, possibly even by next year. Let’s hope so.