Remembering Iran

 

I was asked yesterday why Iran was so important to me.  Certainly there are other countries suffering hugely in the world.  Certainly the people of North Korea are suffering under the thumb of a totalitarian dictator every bit as horrific as the “Supreme Leader” of Iran.  So why are my emotions as well as my intellect so fixated on Iran?

 

It’s a good question.  I’ve been pondering it.  In part, I think, it is because Iran is more real to me.  I had some Iranian friends when I was in college.  Got to know them and just a bit of their culture.  Good people.  But I know people from South America as well. 

 

Another part of why Iran is so important to me is the complicity of the United States in messing the country up.  The United States has had a deplorable history of meddling in the affairs of other peoples, including the removal of governments, for the sole reason of corporate profit.  I have never agreed with that policy and thus can’t say I feel particularly “guilty” about it.  But, yes, there is a special place in my heart for countries whose past the United States has undermined, and I treasure the hope that they can become a free and happy people.

 

Yet if that were it entirely, I would certainly be more involved with Central and South America than Iran.

 

As I have pondered it, there seem to me two foundational reasons why I feel so deeply specifically about Iran. One is that the injustice, the beatings, the murder by the state, are all being done in the name of God.  That hits where I live.  Whether it is a Jew or Christian or Muslim or Buddhist or Hindu who does the act “in the name of God,” it causes the same response in me.  I’m not saying it is “right” that I feel that these acts, when done in the name of God, are somehow more reprehensible; but I recognize that I do feel that way.  As an interfaith minister, it is fundamental to who I am.  A totalitarian regime is evil enough.  For me, a totalitarian theocracy embodies my worst nightmare. 

 

The other reason I feel so deeply is the way that the people of Iran themselves have responded.  Millions of them, literally, peacefully took to the streets to protest when it was safe to do so.  Hundreds of thousands when it became dangerous.  And still thousands, just the other day, even when they know it will mean beatings for some, imprisonment for others, and perhaps death.  And still they march for justice.  As did King, as did Gandhi.  My heart is with them, as well a my prayers. 

…

As a post script, I just came upon an interesting article about Iran’s move towards totalitarianism.  It’s at Newsweek online.   If you’re interested, click here.   

A Part of the Journey Completed

 

This week marks a landmark for me.  In a sense, I’ve been on the path of Interfaith all my life.  But in another sense, that path took real direction and intensity beginning in 1999.  I had an experience that I will relate some other time.  That experience launched me on the odyssey that led me to seminary, to becoming an interfaith minister, and, as of late yesterday afternoon, to finish writing a book on Interfaith that crystallizes both how I see Interfaith, and the hope I believe Interfaith can bring our torn world.

 

Of course, there is the small detail of PUBLISHING the book I have now written.  First step, I suppose, is to find an agent.  But there is also a sense of accomplishment.  I first wrote the book six years ago.  But I realized it was incomplete.  And I realized I didn’t have the credentials to write it.

 

In those succeeding six years, I went to seminary, became a minister, and started this website: a website devoted to how we might actually live an Interfaith life. 

 

Writing the book is not the end of the journey, at least I don’t think so.  Indeed, I have come to believe that I need to start an Interfaith Church.  It is my hope to start an Interfaith Church in Snohomish County, Washington, in September of 2010 – if, that is, I can find allies who will help, for this is far greater a task than one person can or should tackle.  The book on Interfaith is a building block, a foundational piece.  But I realized to my astonishment as I was finishing the book that it was not the end.

 

I will admit that I am scared out of my mind.  Starting a church???  I know I will need help, a lot of help.  I hope I can find it.   But it is also exciting.  Truly a chance to live what I believe.

 

The biggest damper to my joy at this particular moment is beyond my power to control.  The oppressive dictatorship of the Shah of Iran, that I remember all too well from my college days, has been replaced by the oppressive dictatorship of the Clerics.  People are being shot.  People are being brutalized.  People are just plain disappearing.  And I weep.  Passover is such an important holiday to me.  Foundational to Passover is the right of a people to be free.  Yet once again, in the name of God, people are dying.

 

There not only must be a better way, there IS a better way.  But we must come together to find it. 

 

Let us not forget the people of Iran.  Let us hold prayer vigils.  Even as the corporate media turn their attention away from it, let us not forget!

 

I would urge you keep Iran in your thoughts, and the struggle that continues there, even as our media lose interest.  Hold Iran close in your prayers.

 

And then, if you’ve a prayer to spare, send one my way.  Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine starting a church.  I will need help.  And I will need prayer.

Please Pray for Iran

 

I remember some twenty years ago being glued to my television.  The students and their supporters were gathered in Tiananmen Square.  They demanded democracy.  They demanded freedom.  Watching their bravery and listening to their eloquence, I found myself “high,” almost giddy on student power.  I don’t think I was alone.  This seemed a sea-change not only in China’s history but in world history.  This was akin to leaving Egypt and the grip of Pharaoh.  “Let my people go!”

 

There was a moment when it seemed they would pull it off.  There was a moment when I thought, “This will not only change China, this will change us.”  But it didn’t happen.

 

The Chinese government tolerated the protests in Tiananmen Square for a while, then pulled the plug on all media access and proceeded to massacre any and all dissidents who would not disperse.

 

Today I am older, and more jaded if not wiser.  I look at Iran and I don’t feel giddy, I feel anxious.  The Iranian people are a wonderful and wise people.  They deserve to live free lives.  They are fighting now, quietly, at least at this moment, for their lives and their freedom.  Already some of the leaders, and some of the followers in Iran have been beaten, imprisoned, and even murdered.  When I think of what they are trying to do, the closest I can come from my own experience is the Civil Right movement in the United States. 

 

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was an incredibly brave and truly heroic man.  He risked his life over and over again, and eventually lost his life in the cause of freedom.  Not the jingoistic, rah rah, Fourth of July cause of freedom; but the day to day cause of a people who yearn and deserve to be free.

 

I will pray for the people of Iran, and I would ask that anyone reading this take some time, be intentional, and send them your thoughts and prayers.  Right now, despite some blowhards in D.C., this is all we can do.  Iran, and no one else, will decide what to do.  The leaders of Iran will decide whether their love of power is worth assassinating their own people.  And if that is their decision, then others will have to decide to go along or to stand up and say, “No.”

 

I honor the people of Iran and their quest to be free.  I fear for them, and I shall pray for them.  Will you join me?

Towards An Uncluttered Life

 

I sit here wondering, how can it be two weeks now, and I still haven’t finished unpacking the boxes?  But I haven’t.  Close now, but not finished.

 

Of course, I’ve been slowed down considerably by the need to pack up my music books at the UU Fellowship where I work and bring the books home.  But that’s another story for another time … except of course, that it means more boxes and more books.

 

I want to ponder this evening the clutter that can accumulate in our lives.  And yes, I’ve been dealing with physical clutter.  For me this has mostly meant books.  But there is a clutter of a different kind.

 

I was at a store today buying some glue, and the woman in the checkout line in front of me was on the phone.  Her cell phone.  She was on the phone while we waited in line.  She was on the phone as she made her purchase, and swiped her credit card through the machine.  She was on the phone as she signed for her purchase, while she accepted her bag, and still on the phone as she walked out.  I was close enough so that it was impossible not to overhear her half of the conversation.  She was clearly chatting rather mindlessly with a friend.

 

The humanity of the person waiting on her disappeared.  Everything going around her disappeared.  She was on the phone.  Many of us are on our phones while in the car.  Or on the phone while walking down the street.  If someone hasn’t invented it yet, you can be sure there will soon be a waterproof “shower phone” so that we can keep in touch as we bathe.  Sweeping the country is what is called “Twitter.”  Heaven forefend if our friends don’t know what passes for our thoughts, twenty-four hours a day.  Seven days a week.  More and more ways to keep in contact.  Our lives have, if you will, become cluttered with contact.  No time to think.  No time to ponder.  No time to acknowledge the humanity of the person next to us.  We are in contact so much that I fear we have truly lost contact.

 

This is the moment that, if I were a more “mainline” minister I’d be talking about losing contact with God.  I suppose there’s that dimension to consider as well, but what I am witnessing is a lost of contact with the world, with life, with humanity.  And just as importantly, a loss of contact with ourselves, with our spiritual selves.

 

One doesn’t need to be Buddhist to realize the importance of slowing down now and then …. well, actually, the importance of slowing down regularly.  Breathing.  Pondering.  Meditating. 

 

In our “twittered”,  “instant-messaged”, instant “happy meal” world, I more and more frequently wonder if we have perhaps lost even the ability to slow down. 

 

I hope not.  My wish for anyone who reads this blog-entry is that you take at least five minutes every day, turning off the cell phone and any other “keep in contact” device you may have and just “be.”  Fifteen minutes would be better.  But even five minutes can be tough for us if we never had or have perhaps lost the habit.  Thich Nhat Hanh calls it “Mindfulness” … being aware, truly aware of what we are doing and what our surroundings are.  His book “The Miracle of Mindfulness” is worth exploring. 

 

We began with the need to “unclutter” our world.  Even if it’s just a bit.  Even if it’s just for a few minutes a day.  We may be surprised how freeing becoming “uncluttered” can be.  A side benefit may be rediscovering what it truly important to us and better understanding who we truly are.

 

Just a thought as I unpack my music books, and realize I can easily unclutter myself of almost half of them (still, I fear, leaving a full book-shelf).

 

Happy uncluttering! 

On The Move

 

Did you miss me?  Last Friday, I moved … an entire eight tenths of a mile!  But it doesn’t seem to matter if you’re moving fifteen blocks or across the country … moving is a high stress, maximum effort. 

 

The past week I’ve been “un-boxing.”  What should go where?  Some people, probably most sane people, take their time “un-boxing.”  I can’t.  I want everything unboxed and either put away or given away or thrown away.  I’m a person who thrives in and with chaos.  But before I can give myself to the chaos, I must first have everything ordered.  Go figure.

 

I’ve learned a few new things during this move.  My last move was from the large house I’d inhabited since 1989.  In those days I still hoped to marry and raise a family, so a large house was a good idea.  But in 2005 (all dates approximate, my brain is still fried from the move!) I sold the house in order to move to a smaller house.  That gave me the money to pay for seminary.  At that point I boxed all my books and most were never unboxed.  They sat in closets in the rented home.

 

But now I’ve bought a house again (my patriotic duty after all!).  It’s much smaller than my first house but quite a bit larger than the rental.  So now I’ve unboxed my books.  ALL my books.  And I have discovered what a pack rat I am … when it comes to books.  Clothing has never been that important.  Jewelry and toys have never meant anything.  And I try to drive my car into the ground before buying a new one.  But I realize that, for me, books have been sacred objects.  And I’ve collected them.  Oh, have I collected them! 

 

I’ve now made the decision to downsize my book-shrine.  I don’t think I’m ever going to re-learn Ancient Greek, so those books go.  For a while I was working full time within our political system.  I studied Constitutional Law (still keeping that book for old time’s sake), and how our political parties work as well as books on what needed to get done and books on how to get those needed things accomplished.  But politics is well in the rear-view mirror now.  There are many reasons for that, but one of the most important is my conviction that what ails us is a spiritual need, not a political one. 

 

Are we committed to healing the sick?  Are we committed to feeding the hungry?  Are we committed to justice?  These are spiritual questions, not political ones.  Or at least, so it seems to me.  Despite what many will say, I don’t see a Democratic or Republican lock on “right answers.”  For me the issue isn’t the answers, it’s what questions our conscience prompts us to ask.  And that’s a spiritual matter.

 

And there are another question or two as I look at the magnitude of the number of books I have accumulated.  First, at my age, am I really ever going to look at that book again?  If not, out it goes!  And second, gluttony doesn’t necessarily refer only to food.  I have been gluttonous when it comes to books.  Acquisitive.  Possessive.  Time to let go. 

 

NOT that I’m giving all of my books away.  I mean twelve bookcases, taking up nearly three walls of a room, hold a considerable number of books.  But still, the time has come to share a bit of this sacred trust with my fellow travelers. 

 

See ya next week.