Sarahbeth Caplin's Blog, page 45

How growing up and getting married changed my views on abortion

I pissed off a great number of people in college with some of my opinion columns on abortion. It’s critical to note that at the time they were written, I had never had a pregnancy scare, and I was adamantly against the pill: my understanding of how it worked wasn’t entirely accurate.

Today, I’ve experienced both of those things, and my viewpoints have been changed considerably, even though I still consider myself pro-life. The leaked video of Deborah Nucatola discussing the pricing of fetal body parts got me thinking again – but this post isn’t about the details of that video, which I haven’t watched.

There’s two kinds of pro-lifers, I think. There are the ones who only want to outlaw abortion but do nothing to help prevent the circumstances leading women to choose it (and they probably abhor the idea of women choosing and enjoying sex in the first place). And then there are the ones who want to see a reformed society: one that educates its children, encourages healthy relationships, takes care of its poor, and places compassion above judgment. I’d like to think I’m the latter kind of pro-lifer – I hesitate to call the former pro-life at all.

There are so few people I can discuss this with openly and without argument. Many of my Christian friends will stop at “It’s murder!” and find the circumstances in which a woman chooses abortion to be irrelevant. Doesn’t matter if she’s poor and can’t feed another child. Doesn’t matter if her child has been diagnosed in utero with a disease that will surely make his life painfully short. In many cases, abortion is an act of desperation, not a celebrated decision, and compassion for the circumstances is completely absent.

On the flip side, I have extremely liberal friends who will fight to the death (no pun intended) to defend abortion as a constitutional right. It’s the woman’s choice only that matters – the father’s opinion isn’t relevant. The woman’s family’s opinion isn’t relevant. It’s her decision, and her decision alone.

Honestly, I think both sides get things backwards. There are some questions I’ve been afraid to ask, at the risk of starting an argument and coming across as anti-feminist, but nonetheless, they bug me: Why is the father’s opinion of the fate of the pregnancy not important? Assuming the sex was consensual, and even better – assuming the couple has a committed relationship, why can’t this be a decision they work out together (obviously if the pregnancy was caused through rape, the “father” is no father at all, but rather a sperm donor). The woman didn’t get pregnant all by herself. And, most controversially, I also have to ask why abortion is considered a constitutional right? I do not understand the denial, even outrage, that the biological purpose of sex is to make babies. That’s an evolutionary fact, not just a religious idea.

I ask these questions not to shame or judge anyone. As a now-married and sexually active woman, I finally have a concern in this debate when I didn’t before. And as a married woman on the fence about having children, I think I’d be in for a major attitude adjustment if I did get unintentionally pregnant, but hopefully (knocks on wood) my taking a pill every day will prevent that from becoming a reality before we’re ready. I feel sad that women get unintentionally pregnant because they were denied access to birth control for financial or other reasons. It scares me to think there are teenagers out there who never learned how sex actually works, and buy into myths that pulling out is foolproof or that you can’t get pregnant the first time. I’m upset that some women choose abortion because the programs designed to help low-income families have been shut down by greedy politicians, and they can barely afford the children they already have.

I’m much more interested in working together with pro-choice and pro-life people alike to prevent abortion from becoming an option in the first place. I was wrong to think that making abortion illegal would magically stop unintended pregnancies from happening and motivate people to make more responsible choices with their sexuality. I was wrong to think policing people’s sex lives would result in a better world.

I’m tired of the black and white thinking on both sides of the issue. The grey middle isn’t any easier, though. The moment I admit that I don’t think outlawing abortion will solve anything, but actually worsen the situation with more back-alley procedures, has earned me a scarlet H for heresy on the extreme pro-life side, and merely asking about the fairness of women making all the decisions themselves has branded me an anti-feminist on the pro-choice side, which couldn’t be further from the truth. But if both sides envision a world with less abortion, honest communication accomplishes far more than marching with picket signs and shaming women whose stories you don’t know. That’s the only thing I’m certain about, other than that a baby should ideally not have to suffer the consequences of a society that isn’t always fair to its women.

Filed under: Feminism, Other stuff, Rape Culture, Religion Tagged: Abortion, Christian culture, Christianity, Controversy, marriage

“Go Set a Watchman” shows how little has changed in 50 years

Go Set a Watchman was an insightful but disappointing read – disappointing because I, like many Mockingbird fans, saw Atticus Finch as an iconic figure and a kind of hero. Watchman definitely tears that image to bits.

But it’s a timely book, because “separate but equal” is a recurring theme in this country’s history: from race, class, and now with the legalization of gay marriage.

Watchman shows that prejudice and equality are complex and often go together: you can support equal rights legally and still believe one group of people is superior to another. There’s overt prejudice, and then there’s prejudice doused with pleasantness – the latter being the hardest to diagnose. Somehow, as prevalent as racism is, it’s not always “polite” to wear it so obviously on one’s sleeve (unless you belong to the Klan).

But this book makes me wonder if “polite” prejudice is perhaps the most harmful kind. That’s what we saw in Mockingbird, told from the child perspective of Scout Finch. In Watchman, the racism is obvious and unapologetic, and the now-grown Jean Louise Finch comes to the same realization that Mockingbird’s readers knew all along: she was duped by her childhood. She learns that good is not always good; that justice and equality do not always go hand in hand.

I confess that I have not witnessed a great deal of racism personally. My sheltered, privileged upbringing kept me sheltered from that. I didn’t have any black friends growing up; my high school barely had any non-white students. But I have gone to church with people who tout the line “Hate the sin, not the sinner” regarding LGBT people. The more I talk to my gay friends, and the more I learn about homosexuality as an intricate part of someone’s given sexuality, the more I realize how much “separate but equal” feelings permeated my previous church groups and bible studies. In many ways, the anti-gay sentiments doused in “love” are a lot like veiled racism: laced within social niceties are condescending, “I know better than you” attitudes that don’t just offend, but belittle the recipient, giving them the impression that they deserve kindness because there is something wrong with them; something they cannot see or fix on their own. Because they are sick, stupid, or in denial.

Such is the attitude towards black people within the Finch family: they are an infant group struggling to grow up fast so they can sit at the White Big Kid table. And like infants learning to walk, they clearly need a hand from the white people, who know better. But this is talked about with such good intentions, so the Finches – most heartbreakingly, Atticus Finch – aren’t the bad guys. In fact, Atticus is one of the “nice racists” because even though he sees blacks as inferior, he still wants to help them, and gets frustrated when that help is refused, because like toddlers, they don’t want to learn.

At least the people wearing the white hoods, waving the Confederate flags, and holding up signs make it clear where they stand. I actually prefer that kind of prejudice – there’s no bullshit, just raw honesty.

As far as literature goes, Watchman suffers from a lack of continuity with its plot: mainly, I couldn’t figure out what the plot was supposed to be, exactly. It’s a book driven by characters and dialogue more than anything else, and the shifts between first and third person with Jean Louise were distracting. If nothing else, Watchman shows how very little has changed within the last fifty years. People like Atticus Finch were the “good guys” of his time, and in 2015, it seems they still are.

Filed under: Other stuff, Religion, Writing & Publishing Tagged: banned books, censorship, Christian culture, Christianity, Controversy, evangelicals, gay marriage, Go Set a Watchman, Harper Lee, LGBT, Racism

Never judge a believer by her jewelry

I spent many years believing that being Jewish was an accident of birth: a decision made for me by nature that I had no say in. But because I did not choose it, it’s a fixture in my life that just is: it follows me wherever I go. Unlike Christianity, it’s an aspect of identity that I do not have to work to maintain. My lineage does not get a memo whenever my beliefs change.

After trying for years to merge my two faiths together, without success, I retired my cross and Star of David pendants. At one point, I wore them both on the same chain, but realized this was a rather in-your-face attempt at justifying myself to other people. While the opinions of others shouldn’t have a factor in determining the kind of person I want to be, I would hate to hinder any possibility of discussion because someone is offended at my flagrantly mixing the equivalent of ice cream and ketchup.

It’s also for this reason that I do not wear the Messianic Seal charm I purchased on my last trip to Israel. I still have it, but I know how I would have reacted to it back when I feared missionaries like the plague.

Is it necessary to wear my faith on a silver chain? No, of course not. But for me, a pendant of religious significance is a lot like wearing a purity ring. The ring itself doesn’t do anything, but it’s a reminder of what’s important to you, particularly when temptation knocks. Also, given my extreme introverted nature, wearing a religious symbol does the talking for me, lest anyone accuse me of not fulfilling my duty to carry out the Great Commission.

I was out shopping one day and happened upon an independent gift shop in Fort Collins, where I spotted a silver tree necklace that instantly made me think of roots – as in, family history roots. That said more about my faith’s current state than any existing religious symbol. True, the image of being “grafted in” a Jewish family tree is found in Christian Scripture, but for me, it’s in reverse: my roots are Jewish, but the leaves at the top – my beliefs – are my own.

Not long after that purchase, I wandered into another independent gift shop in my hometown of Hudson, Ohio. My discovery there was a real surprise: a tear-drop pendant with a six-pointed star etched into it, with the word “faith” printed underneath. This struck me as unusual because, let’s face it: in the world of jewelry, words like “faith,” “love,” or “hope” have unofficially been copyrighted by Christianity.

I can’t count the number of times in my teen years I’ve put down cute heartsy jewelry with  imprints of crosses or Ichthus fish. It was hurtful, really, for these jewelry companies to assume that no other religion prioritized love or any other touchy-feely sentiment. But if I’m truly honest with myself, I know why this is: there is hardly a big enough market for Jewish jewelry with words like “faith” or “love” on them. Those items might be found in uniquely Judaic shops, yet I happened upon one of the few that found a home in a shop primarily frequented by mainline Protestants.

Impulsively, I bought that charm, if for no other reason than to remember it exists. At any rate, it’s a far more tasteful representation of my unique brand of faith than a Messianic Seal or, as I’ve seen elsewhere, a Star of David with a cross inside. But if I’ve learned anything over the years, part of not judging people by their outer appearance also means not making assumptions about their beliefs based on their jewelry.

As a naive teenager, I was the Certain One: certain of my true identity. Certain of God’s plan for my life. I hate having unanswerable questions and a perpetual identity crisis, but being a grownup sometimes means embracing the story we don’t want or expect. That we did not choose it does not make it any less ours.

Filed under: Religion Tagged: Christian culture, Christianity, Controversy, evangelicals, Judaism

“I straddle a line between two faiths”: a coming out story

I definitely thought I’d be the last candidate to be asked to share her off-beat testimony at a church small group, but somehow I was. The first two minutes won’t be surprising to anyone who has read Confessions of a Prodigal Daughter, but the last two minutes are a big step for me: you know you’ve found a good church if you can admit that sometimes you feel agnostic, and still be encouraged to speak.

Talking about where I am today, spiritually, was more important than rehashing the last 8 years of faith, because I’m not that same bright-eyed new believer anymore. Now I don’t hide what does and does not make sense, because authenticity matters more to me than winning people to my side with clever arguments.

I love that I can admit that I straddle a line between two faiths, am more confused than ever, and still be told I’m welcome.

Filed under: Religion, Writing & Publishing Tagged: Author Sarahbeth Caplin, censorship, Christian culture, Christianity, Confessions of a Prodigal Daughter, Controversy, evangelicals, Judaism, social justice, Writing

The limits of divine intervention

Driving home from church one night, I realized I no longer believe in an intervening God. Not the kind described in the Bible, anyway – the God who speaks through burning bushes and rains manna from the sky. When people say God spoke to them personally with the promise of healing, of recovery, or some tangible form of deliverance, I believe it’s real to them. I’m not going to be the Grinch of Joy. But generally I don’t believe that’s God’s go-to method of communication anymore.

I like Harold Kushner’s reasoning that God designed a world that operates by its own rules. Laws of nature do not bend at anyone’s will: they follow a design that doesn’t take social standing or any form of status into consideration. If a man steals a packet of seeds, it would serve him right if they didn’t grow – but grow is what seeds are designed to do, regardless of the circumstances in which they were planted. If a woman is raped, it would be better, obviously, for her not to become pregnant as a result; but the laws of nature do not make exceptions for a violent conception.

I don’t understand the mentality that if one prays hard enough, they can be made exempt from the consequences of nature. Why would God intervene with the way his world operates on behalf of one person, but not all?

This self-protective form of Christianity is distinctly American; a product of modern, technologically sophisticated Western thinking. This is not the Christianity of early Roman martyrs waiting to be thrown to the lions – that radical faith is anything but safe, and that, I think, is how it was designed to be. But today, I listen to story after story of young Christians suddenly realizing the world is unfair only after tragedy becomes personal. God is still good despite the Holocaust, despite the prevalence of human trafficking, and natural disasters that leave millions of people homeless, but suddenly a car wreck that inhibits one’s ability to play basketball throws God’s goodness into question? An illness that was bound to occur as a result of genetics and perhaps poor lifestyle choices means God no longer cares? This, to me, is spiritual immaturity.

I don’t mean to imply that my own faith is far above all this. I am no deeper or mature than the next self-professing Christian, but I am one whose beliefs have been profoundly shaped by personal experiences. I am still learning, as everybody is, and there is no predetermined “life track” in which everyone comes to the same conclusions at exactly the same time. I realize that I must learn patience and compassion for people who haven’t experienced the same hardships – that’s a blessing, not a character flaw. But this twisted idea that some of us are immune to suffering is one I do have little patience for, and reflecting on my own privileged upbringing is a reminder that adversities can happen to anyone in a world governed by the laws of nature and physics, which I believe God created.

I believe God gives us tools to cope with things within our control: strength, courage, wisdom, hope. I no longer pray for events I have no control over, because that is essentially asking God to change the way he ordered the world to work, for reasons no one will understand until we can ask him face to face.

Filed under: Religion Tagged: cancer, Christian culture, Christianity, Controversy, evangelicals, grief, Judaism

Shameless summer TV addictions: a review of ‘Chasing Life’

While it’s highly unlikely that another TV show will suck me in like Breaking Bad did, I’ve become semi-addicted to ABC Family’s Chasing Life. The premise is a twenty-something journalist, April, who is about to strike gold in both her career and love life, until a cancer diagnosis threatens to throw it all off-kilter (if you haven’t finished the first season, don’t read on – there will be spoilers).

I know this probably seems like an odd choice of entertainment for me. Why would I want to immerse myself in a cancer-centered drama after losing my dad to cancer? I haven’t even taken the plastic wrap off my Fault in our Stars DVD – it may be a while before I can watch that. I guess I chose Chasing Life for two reasons: 1, it’s ABC Family, so you know there’s going to be way more to the plot than a soapy, Touched by an Angel-esque cancer drama, and 2, sometimes it’s comforting to watch something that lets me know I’m not the only one touched by this, even if the characters aren’t real.

I’ll say this for The Fault in our Stars: it goes out of its way to depict cancer as real, gritty, and destructive as it actually is. Main character Hazel drags an oxygen tank everywhere she goes because her lungs are filled with fluid. She can’t run, play sports, or even make out like other teenagers can without losing the ability to breathe. Love-interest Augustus loses a leg to the disease. I was extremely pleased with the realness in that story. I wonder if the wild success of Fault has anything to do with the rise of “cancer dramas” on TV lately: from Lifetime’s The Big C to Kristina’s diagnosis on Parenthood (which, in my opinion, went absolutely nowhere).

Is Hollywood realizing that cancer patients watch TV too, and might want to watch something that helps viewers understand their struggles? Hardly. Just like pregnancy is the most predictable “twist” in romance genres, so too is cancer on television. Nothing quite tugs at the heartstrings like watching a couple fall in love despite knowing that one of them might not make it.

So where does Chasing Life fall into this? Well, what does this poster from Netflix tell you?

An attractive woman is sitting on the edge of a casket – filled with lemons! I see what you did there, ABC! Very punny of you. But also how about…melodramatic? And the tagline “cancer sucks”? Yeah, no kidding. How long did it take to come up with that one?

But as previously mentioned, it’s ABC Family, so melodrama is an essential ingredient. The cancer angle isn’t enough, of course – the script writers had to throw in a single mom struggling to find a man to date who isn’t secretly married, a grandma realizing that she too shouldn’t give up dating just because she’s in her seventies, a bi-curious sister who is two-timing her lesbian classmate and her boyfriend, a secret half-sister who is the result of April’s dead father’s affair (who just so happens to be a match for April’s bone marrow transplant, ZOMG I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING), and two men who end up falling for April (of course).

I can honestly say, having finished the first season, that the drama is keeping me interested more than anything having to do with the cancer. That’s because April is an attractive working woman with cancer, not a cancer patient who was attractive and wanted to keep her job. There is a difference. The cancer, at times, is treated more like an inconvenience than a genuine life-or-death struggle.

The one time I was tempted to throw in the towel was in the middle of the season when April finally starts her treatment – and is home within a month (only two episodes in TV Time). Sure, she loses her hair, and that’s hard to watch. But does she lose weight? No. Does she even lose her eyebrows (how many people are aware that chemo makes you lose ALL your body hair)? Nope! She’s still cute as she was before, just bald. She looks darling in little knit hats when she goes back to work (oh yeah – she’s back at work by the end of that month, too).

But then I got to the last two episodes, when April relapses. Her oncologist encourages her to let out her anger by swinging a baseball bat at drywall in a “Venting Room” (now that’s a cool idea). And so she does: she’s angry that she has this disease when she’s so young and finally finding her way in life – and rightly so. She’s angry that cancer got in the way of her first real relationship and limits her ability to be intimate. Now that, I get, because I watched my Dad cry a handful of times as it slowly became apparent that he’d never be able to run, coach, play golf, or even walk long distances as the cancer did its work. It’s a tragic, completely unfair thing to happen to anyone at any age, but since April is a character my age, I couldn’t help but wonder how I’d react if it happened to me. So the final episode did make me cry – and when a show can do that, that means it’s a keeper, despite its flaws.

Filed under: Other stuff Tagged: cancer, grief

When non-Christians act more Christian than some Christians

“For since the creation of the world his invisible attributes – his eternal power and divine nature – have been clearly seen, because they are understood through what has been made. So people are without excuse.” Romans 1:20 (NLT)

This verse has always struck me as being one of the more universal parts of the Bible (well, maybe not so much the “People are without excuse” part). I always thought it meant that people could be following the laws of God without realizing it by acting with righteousness, having great concern for justice, and compassion for the weak and the marginalized. In this sense, many atheists perhaps have a better understanding of the Gospel than some self-proclaimed evangelicals who go out of their way to condemn those who don’t see things their way, and favor policies that encourage poor people to pick themselves up by bootstraps they never had to begin with.

We live in a world that defines “goodness” by measuring the number of one’s deeds rather than the condition of his or her heart. Many of us have probably done the right thing out of obligation, or perhaps to preserve our reputations, with not-so-righteous motivations (I’m thinking of twelve-year-old me who didn’t want to follow through with the extra work of a Bat Mitzvah project, in which I was supposed to raise tzedakah for a charity of my choice, because learning the Hebrew was hard enough). To this day I find myself wanting to buy a sandwich for a homeless person out of guilt more than concern for when he will see his next meal. Which, to further complicate things, just makes me feel even guiltier.

Then there are people like my husband, for whom compassion is truly a way of life. Somehow, it became a tradition every time we eat at Cracker Barrel (I don’t recall why it’s always Cracker Barrel) to ask our server for someone else’s check. When his Sebring finally broke down and we purchased a new Honda, I was reluctant to keep up with this tradition because now we had an additional payment to make every month. How easy it was for me to forget that the only change in our lifestyle with having to make monthly car payments was that we would be able to eat out less often. Such a sacrifice, I know.

I know Joshua’s compassion is real because he never wants to be recognized for what he does. He asks the server not to tell the lucky patron who the buyer is. He’s a rare kind of human who exemplifies Jesus without trying, and it’s surely one of the reasons I married him (that, and his wicked talent for making “That’s What She Said” jokes out of almost any innocuous statement).

I think a healthy sense of self-awareness makes one more likely to follow Jesus’ ways without knowing it, as opposed to someone who measures character by the number of good deeds versus bad ones. A healthy sense of self-awareness is realizing that no matter what we do, we can always do more – but we should always do small things with great passion. It’s recognizing that we can’t do everything, nor should we try – and sometimes the people who are most aware of their flaws accomplish so much more, because there is something about recognizing weakness that makes a heart soft. Those who try to build up their resume of good deeds are more likely to look down on others who haven’t done as much.

I know I’m not a “good person,” but that doesn’t mean that I hate myself. It means that I realize I can never do enough to measure up to a universal standard of goodness, and I’m okay with that. Even if I only manage to do one mitzvah per month, that is, to paraphrase the Talmud, as good as saving the whole world. It’s actually quite refreshing to let go of this idea that my worth as a human depends on what I do to prove it. For all my frustration and confusion with Christianity at times, my wonderful husband is quick to remind me that as long as I recognize that my worth comes from being made in God’s image, I am still living the Gospel even if I don’t realize it.

Filed under: Religion Tagged: Christian culture, Christianity, evangelicals, Judaism, marriage

This is my Fight Book

Happy release day, A Stunning Accusation!

You know that song by Rachel Platten, “Fight Song,” that you probably find yourself belting out alone in your car (or is that just me)?

Well, A Stunning Accusation is my “Fight Book” (“Take back my life” book, “prove I’m all right” book…). It is my favorite work I’ve fiction I’ve written so far, precisely because it’s the one that took the most out of me – emotionally and physically. It’s hard work to make an accused rapist look like a good person to keep readers guessing. It’s hard work to write characters that represent multiple facets of rape culture, and write dialogue that brings back hurtful memories of when I heard similar sentiments from people I know in real life.

But I think it came together to tell a story that is at once provocative, devastating, insightful, and hopefully full of mystery. I love this story because I forced myself to set aside my personal biases to play different roles: there’s no agenda in this book like there was in my first novel. I think it’s honest and raw, but above all, it’s real – and I hope it reaches the hands of readers who need this story most.

Excerpt below!

“So I met with another one of Jordan’s exes today.”

“Oh, that’s right. So is JJ still not a rapist?”

Talk about a loaded question. Holding my wine glass by the stem, I spin it on my knee, contemplating how to answer. “Long story short, he tried some kinky things she didn’t like, so she asked him to stop, and he likened it to a second-grader pulling a girl’s hair to tell her he likes her.”

Kiersten’s eyes bulged as she held her glass close to her lips, as if anticipating shocking news that would require an emergency pump of alcohol to face. “That’s it?”

“Uh, yup. That’s what she said.”

That’s what she said. Ha, ha.

“Wow.” Kiersten sets the glass roughly on the table, causing the Merlot inside to vehemently swish. “Jordan’s dated some pretty weird women, if that’s their definition of assault.”

“Well remember, they weren’t the ones who accused him. Only Samantha did.”

“Right. Why don’t you just forget the whole ‘interview’ thing and get the information you want straight from the horse’s mouth? Quit wasting your time with his exes and just talk to Samantha already.”

I had considered doing that. Funny how Jordan didn’t recommend I do that in the first place. Unless she’s just too volatile, too fragile to confront. Not to mention, I could never use a fake identity with her. She’d know exactly who I am and what I’d want from her.

“Maybe I will later,” I say. “This is still worthwhile, though. I’m too intrigued to give up now, especially when there are still two more names left. I’m halfway done already.”

Kier shakes her head. “Allow me to give you my unsolicited opinion, since I’m your best friend. You aren’t getting anything useful from them. At all. They sound like lonely, jilted women who saw an opportunity to dress up the story of their failed relationships to get sympathy, and you know what? It’s working. Don’t you see? Maybe they’ve seen through your little charade and are just playing you.”

“I don’t think that’s what–”

“They’re cobbling together stories to put doubts in your head so you’ll dump Jordan! That’s what they want! They hate him for not wanting to get serious, so this is their payback. Not the best kind that I’ve seen, but still ruthless in its own way.”

“And what could they possibly have to gain from this? Wouldn’t falsely accusing someone only come back to bite them in the ass?”

Kiersten seems to consider this. “You would think. But who says Jordan dates smart women?”

It only took a few seconds to realize her mistake. “Oh, shit, Addie, I didn’t mean…”

“You meant to say that Jordan only dated bimbos before he met me,” I clarify for her. “Thanks to me he’s raising his standards.”

“Exactly what I meant. Cheers?”

We clink our glasses.

Filed under: Feminism, Rape Culture, Writing & Publishing Tagged: Author Sarahbeth Caplin, Controversy, Feminism, rape culture, Writing

Faith and entitlement

This week, I was sitting in Starbucks when I overheard a thirty-something gentleman talking loudly on his phone. He was describing another gentleman who apparently made a “menacing gesture” at him, though from what I could gather from hearing his end of the call, there was no weapon or any real threat of danger – and that’s when I realized he was on the phone with 911.

Yes, it looked like the man called 911 because another patron looked at him the wrong way, yet the caller was never physically assaulted. The police came, and the interrogation with the caller made me feel second-hand embarrassment for him (by then, the “menacing patron” was long gone). The cops left, aggravated, while the man called out, “Wait! Aren’t you going to dust his table for fingerprints?” The whole exchange reminded me of a joke my husband likes to make whenever a controversial story dominates social media: “Good morning, America! What are we offended by today?”

This is the moral I took from the event: a deranged sense of entitlement can be dangerous for real victims in need of police intervention. One can only imagine how that man copes with other offenses, if his feelings are that fragile. I hope he never visits New York.

Entitlement isn’t always that extreme, though. After working several years in the food industry, I’ve often wondered what it is that makes certain people think they are important enough that their needs come before everyone else’s; that they are appalled to not be treated like royalty and take deep offense to any sign that they are not as well-liked as they believe. It troubles me to think how such people handle real hardship, and if they perceive a slight loss of privilege as the equivalent of tyranny.

I think Jesus taught me much about a lifestyle that puts others first: not in an unhealthy, codependent way that ignores my own needs, but in such a way that reminds me I am not the center of anyone’s universe. I never interpreted “turn the other cheek” as letting others walk all over me. To me, “turn the other cheek” is not letting a rude driver ruin my day, an insult from an acquaintance affect my self-esteem, or a mean blog comment from a stranger make me vindictive. It teaches me to take criticism from sources that matter, and forget the rest. Jesus has and continues to teach me how to be content with less because I still have far more than most people in the world. There is no amount of money or possessions I feel I am owed somehow.

I am also reminded of Anne Frank’s quote in her diary about her belief in the goodness of all human beings; even those consumed with murderous hate. Many rabbis teach a similar train of thought. When I worked at Panera, there was a customer who was extremely picky about how she wanted her bagels sliced. Two attempts later, she snapped and complained about the quality of service we were giving her. Almost immediately, she apologized for acting so out of line. She confessed that her husband had just died, and she was picking up breakfast for the relatives who were soon to arrive at her house. Then she burst into tears. In five seconds, the woman went from being the most difficult part of my day to someone I wanted to reach across the counter and hug. I’ve thought of that woman every time I encounter a rude person, not knowing what struggle they might be going through. I hope other people are just as gracious towards me in my less-than-pleasant moments.

In Judaism, sin is not a condition, but an action. I struggle with the paradox that I am a sinner, even in my sleep, yet recognizing sin in my own life makes me more accepting of the sins of others (well…sometimes). It’s funny how one doctrine can teach me empathy as well as to occasionally question my own worth, which I think is just as damaging as an inflated ego. It surprises some people that I don’t believe I am a “good person,” nor do I believe any truly “good” people exist (my apologies to Anne Frank). That’s not to say that I believe all people, myself included, are intrinsically evil; it means that I am too familiar with my own ulterior judgments and prejudices to pretend they don’t exist in others.

I wonder if that Starbucks customer who called 911 was so self-inflated that even a negative glance is a criminal offense, or maybe he has nonexistent self-esteem that makes even a negative look feel like a legitimate attack.

Or, maybe I analyze things too much.

Filed under: Religion Tagged: Christian culture, Christianity, Controversy, customer service, evangelicals, Judaism

The serious seeker is recognized by his questions, not his answers

For a while, I was into memoirs about Christians who suffered some kind of trauma that injured their faith, and the subsequent journey to get it back. I still love those books, but I’m also going back to reread my Jewish ones. I have an entire shelf stocked with Kushner, Frankel, Wiesel, and Talmudic commentaries that have, believe it or not, helped shape my Christianity more than any C.S. Lewis book.

Because Kushner is a classic in any Jewish library, I started with his book To Life! A Celebration of Jewish Being and Thinking first, and stopped to ponder this thought-provoking passage:

Talk about an idea that is antithetical to Evangelicalism in just about every way. You will never hear a Christian teacher say that our faith changes with time; God is the same today as he was yesterday, and will be the same forever. But if the faith hasn’t changed, the culture certainly has: few churches in America prohibit female worshipers without head coverings, for example. Most Christians in America aren’t using Scripture to justify owning slaves anymore (I hope). I’ve often wondered what Jesus would think about the presence of Starbucks-style cafés and bookstores connected to houses of worship.

It’s with some uneasiness, then, that I agree with Kushner: religion does evolve, whether we want to admit it or not. And if this is true, I believe it stands to reason that the definition of a Jew is constantly in flux as well. Before addressing my lineage, my DNA, and my Jewish childhood, I think the foundation of my unique Judaism is summarized by another Kushner quote: “The serious Jew is recognized by his questions more than his answers.”

How fitting is that for my life? I’ve always been that person who made other people uncomfortable in bible studies because I asked so many questions. The typical pat answers never satisfied me. And most of my questions have been about the afterlife, for obvious reasons. I imagine those questions were easily brushed off by some of my friends because they didn’t have the same pressing concern about their relatives’ souls as I did.

As religious tradition continues evolving, so does my perception of God and what it means to have a Jewish identity with not-so-Jewish beliefs (some, anyway). Judaism will continue to affect my understanding of any religious concept, any political movement, and any cultural norm because it was the first tradition I ever learned. Judaism has taught me to be curious, and it has taught me how to make choices that make this world a better place, rather than focusing all my energy into longing for the world to come. That is my Jewish foundation, and it doesn’t have to be a universal one.

If religion is defined as a set of beliefs, then claiming any divinity in Jesus automatically makes one Christian. But if religion is also defined as a culture and a community, mine is Judaism always. I haven’t always been comfortable admitting this, but the fear of embracing an identity because you don’t want to offend others is just stupid. You can, to some extent, control what you believe, but not your circumstances of birth.

Similar thoughts and more in Confessions of a Prodigal Daughter

Filed under: Religion Tagged: Christian culture, Christianity, evangelicals, Judaism