Rugged individualist, or content with community?

From a review in Salon:

In her excellent new book, “Coming Up Short: Working-Class Adulthood in an Age of Uncertainty,” the sociologist Jennifer Silva analyzes the ways in which neoliberalism has radically transformed our sense of self. As Silva argues, the assault on working-class organizations and living standards has led many young adults to adopt a profoundly individualistic and therapeutic view of the world and their personal development. 

The scores of young workers that she interviewed for her study had no faith in politics or collective action to address their problems or to give their lives meaning. Instead, they deal with the traumas of everyday life by crafting “deeply personal coming of age stories, grounding their adult identities in recovering from painful pasts — whether addictions, childhood abuse, family trauma, or abandonment — and forging an emancipated, transformed, adult self.”

This author goes on to argue that this intense individualism, telling ourselves stories about ourselves only, is part of the problem.  We liberals are too enamored of our uniqueness to make effective coalitions to build change.

The appeal of individualistic and therapeutic approaches to the problems of our time is not difficult to apprehend. But it is only through the creation of solidarities that rebuild confidence in our collective capacity to change the world that their grip can be broken.

We've done this to ourselves,of course, by favoring self-expression and independence, by building self-esteem in our children, to the point where they can no longer deal with failure or setbacks. (As a college teacher, I get a flood of emails at the end of every semester from students who didn't earn the grade they wanted but demand that I give it to them anyway.)  

We've cut ourselves off from community.  And we see politically that the conservatives who maintain that group identity are often more disciplined and effective at getting what they want.  Think of the difference of the political mobilization that lead to the Tea Party, which now holds a power balance in the GOP, whereas the political mobilization from the Occupy movement....oh, right, there WAS no political effect of the Occupy movement.

Elizabeth Drescher recently wrote  about a different study suggesting something similar-- that those more liberally inclined have a greater sense of uniqueness and non-confomity.

Overall, Stern, et al found that “liberals underestimated their similarity to other liberals, whereas moderates and conservatives overestimated their similarity to other moderates and conservatives.”

 She argues that this is a reason for declining youth engagement in mainline Protestant denominations.

While the former Evangelical Christians I’ve talked with in my research on Nones have tended to express anger with the religious traditions of their youth, and many former Catholic Nones express hurt or sadness, Nones raised in Mainline Protestant traditions have tended to express a “been-there-done-that” boredom with the traditions in which they were raised. They’ve graduated, matured out of the need for regular reinforcement of the ethical teachings of the church…. 

Though of course further research would be required to bear this notion out, we may fairly wonder if the personal “specialness” and “uniqueness” that is often at the center of Christian formation programs is perhaps over-amplified in more progressive Christian traditions. 

Are liberal Christians encouraging and affirming themselves to the point that they no longer feel the need to occupy their own communities?

I've commented before that my mother doesn't really "get" my participation in our church community. She is the definition of a rugged individualist.  But I've converted to seeing the good in community, and only wish we'd found it a lot sooner, when it might have made a difference to the kids.

Charitable giving: is it a religious thing?

Why do religious people give more to charity than non-believers?  An easy answer is because of their religious faith.  After all, aren't the Gospels full of exhortations to take care of the poor?  So therefore, religious people give more, right?

Turns out, not so much. (my emphases)

Based on a major national survey, [a new] report finds that three-quarters of all household charitable giving goes to organizations that have religious ties. These span the range from large organizations like the Salvation Army (which, many Americans do not realize, is actually a church) to small soup kitchens run out of church basements.

Not only do Americans give generously to charities with religious affiliations, but the most religious Americans are also the most charitable. ...[T]here is a strong connection between being religious and being charitable. Not surprisingly, the most highly religious Americans contribute their time and treasure to religious causes. But they also give to secular causes—at a higher rate than do the most secular Americans. 

...We initially thought that religious beliefs must foster a sense of charity—whether inspiration from biblical stories like the Good Samaritan or, perhaps, a fear of God’s judgment for not acting charitably. However, we could find no evidence linking people’s theological beliefs and their rate of giving... 

Rather than religious beliefs, we found that the “secret ingredient” for charitable giving among religious Americans is the social networks formed within religious congregations. The more friends someone has within a religious congregation, the more likely that person is to give time, money, or both, to charitable causes. In fact, even non-religious people who have friends within a religious congregation (typically, because their spouse is a believer) are highly charitable—more so than strong believers who have few social ties within a congregation.

It's all about community.  I am not in the least bit surprised!

(H/T Andrew Sullivan.)

Musings of the friendly atheist: it's the community

People of late seem to find me interesting, how I can be an avowed non-believer and yet be a willing participant in the life of the church.

My mother doesn’t get it. “You’ll be announcing any day now that you are officially Episcopalian,” she accuses. (Mom is probably at best vaguely deist at this point, having grown up Episcopalian, converting to Roman Catholic when she married, and drifting away from any church ever since. She definitely is not an organized religion person.) I point out that I’ve always liked classical polyphony even in my most angry-atheist phase; and what student of art or music could fail to notice that religion inspired many of the most significant pieces in history? And the level of performance of both music and liturgy at a Cathedral is certainly appealing to a theatrical buff like me. She “gets” that intellectual component, much more than my sense of community being fulfilled.

Friends don’t get it. “I just don’t understand why YOU go to church,” said a new neighbor, who is trying to wrap her head around it. “When they start talking Jesus this and Jesus that….” I explain that with a degree in literature, I’m perfectly comfortable dealing with metaphor and similar devices. Mythos, you might say. And the rhythm of the liturgy has an odd comfort to it, because those words were ingrained in me as a child growing up Roman Catholic.

Would I be going to church without my wife? No, I wouldn’t. But the woman I married has a deep and abiding faith; it’s a very important part of who she is, and a major job as a spouse is to support my wife. People ask how we can be so compatible when our beliefs are 180° opposite. It's because we respect the difference while always loving one another. Let’s remember that she’s an Episcopalian now because I laid siege to her for years, and once she officially swam across the Thames, what could I do but travel with her?

But let’s also not forget that I do get something out of it, and I don't just mean the music. I get that community of thoughtful, engaged people who are smart, and funny, and warm. And this is a community that we met together and joined together; not my friends, or her friends, but truly our friends. That also makes it special.

Into the dark: the San Diego blackout, social media, and being prepared.

 A little before 4pm yesterday, BP telephoned me to tell me that the power was out at her workplace.  "We think it's out all over this mesa", she said.  "Can you see what you can find out?"

I was standing on a platform at Los Angeles Union Station waiting to board a southbound Amtrak train.  Equipped with my trusty iPhone, I went to the internet:  first, going to the San Diego Gas and Electric outage website.  I couldn't load it.  Uh-oh, I thought.  THAT can't be good.

There was nothing on the websites yet for either San Diego paper (the Union Tribune, or the North County Times).  So I turned to Twitter, performed a search for "SDGE", and immediately saw a flood of tweets complaining about the outage, that was a geography lesson of San Diego.  El Centro, El Cajon.  La Jolla, Hillcrest.  Encinitas, Escondido.  Oceanside.  All the way across the Mexican border  into Baja California  in the south, and up into Laguna Niguel, in Orange County.  Reports east as far as Yuma,AZ.

I phoned BP back. "It's huge," I said, "looks like the whole county, and SDGE has no idea what happened or when it will be fixed. I'll keep you posted!"  And I got on the train and headed south.  Slowly, word spread through the railcar about the blackout as commuters phoned home.  One guy played the news on his laptop (glad I don't have to pay for HIS wireless data plan!)

I figured that both the iPhone and the train would stop when we reached the region of the blackout.  While i am  creative   in dealing with commute problems, I know my limits, and assumed it would be a long night with this one.  Amtrak trains have food, water, and beer, and their own power, so even if we got stuck, it would't be too bad.  To my surprise, however, both Verizon and Amtrak kept going.  Seems trains do not rely on the local utility for power on the switches and signals (although they did have to go very slowly for crossings).  And while my 3G network became spotty at times, and some calls got dead air, I was able to stay online and follow #SDblackout and #SDoutage for news.  (ATT apparently wasn't so lucky.)

I stayed in contact with BP till her work phone went out.  She would head home before dark and pull the manual handle on our garage door, open up the camping gear, and pull out some battery lanterns, and locate the campstove and hand-cranked radio.  She would check on our elderly neighbor.   I would make it home when I could.  Fortunately, unlike eastern San Diego which is scorching, we live near the coast, and while it was hot, it wasn't unbearable (we don't have or need A/C).   We have about 10 gallons of water stored and while it's no doubt stale, it's still potable.   I phoned my mom and emailed my brothers in Northern California to tell them we were fine.  BP was able to contact the kids and close friends to make sure everyone was safe.

I was able to follow the news conference that informed us the 500kV transmission line in from Arizona had gone down, and that had taken down the San Onofre nuclear power plant that provided the other major line into SDG&E.  1.4 million SDGE customers were without power just from SDG&E. Note that figure doesn't count the many who are not "SDGE customers" -- not every individual pays a utility bill, and a household may have many members. Over 3 million people live in San Diego county. The impact was far greater than 1.4million in terms of people affected, and many more were impacted in other regions as "collateral damage" as far east as New Mexico and south into Baja California. Some news sites estimated over 5 million people were without power.

Twitter was invaluable in this.  While eventually the main web pages of the LA Times and the San Diego papers picked it up,  the active tweets from SDGE and local folks were much more helpful.  The CBS affiliate (CBS8/KFMB)  tweeted the SDG&E news conference and other information.

However, as with any live and unverified information, a grain of salt must be taken.  One breathless tweet said falsely that there had been explosions at powerplants at the Salton Sea, which lies at the far east of San Diego in the desert.  This did get picked up by a few other twitterers, but most ignored it since the news didn't say anything.  While I know everyone was thinking "terrorism?"  everyone was also very calm.

As the train ran along the beach, surfers were still in the water watching the sun set. The train eventually arrived at my station about 1 hour late, in  deep twilight.  A man standing behind me fretted over whether he would find a taxi to his hotel , and another passenger immediately offered him a ride. While much of the area was gridlocked traffic-wise, I was fortunate that my route was not too bad. Amazingly, the Google Maps app on my iPhone was able to tell me the traffic--apparently, the traffic sensors in the freeways also are independent of SDG&E.  However, at the intersections with the dead signals, far too many cars blew through without stopping.

When I got home, BP had candles and lanterns out and the house looked warm and inviting.  The neighbors were lingering outside, and looking at the stars.  There was a bright moon.  We decided to keep the fridge closed, and ate fresh, home tomatoes with sorrel and basil from the garden, with smoked oysters and white wine.   We listened to the news conference on our hand-cranked radio.  The cat enjoyed pacing the garden in the darkness, lit only by some wimpy outside solar lights.  We went to bed, kinda hoping that the power would stay out for a power-outage day off work tomorrow.  We could grill something from the freezer!  Cook up stuff on our campstove!

Alas, we were awakened at 2.45am by the cat urping up the grass he had eaten outside, and discovered the lights on.  So much for a power-outage day off work.

The best news is that everyone did what they were supposed to.  There was no looting or criminality.  People helped their neighbors (the elderly lady next door had a steady stream of visitors from the neighborhood checking on her).  The city is up and running, albeit cautiously.   Fortunately the weather is much cooler today which should ease the load.

Having the camping gear and the hand-crank radio helped us be very prepared.  We did identify a problem with batteries (need to stock up with fresh ones).  We want to put in more canned food, and recycle the water we are storing in the big containers in the garage.

Other people weren't so lucky.  For example, a  woman behind me on the train said that she couldn't get in her garage, or her house--because she deadlocked the front door from inside, since she always left through the garage, with its electric door.  And of course, you can't pull the over-ride handle for the door if you can't get inside the garage.   Also, due to pump failures, some of the areas of the city are under "boil" rules for their water, at least till the weekend.   The airport has still not cleared out the chaos from all the cancellations and there was a massive sewage spill that will affect numerous beaches.

Still, of course, a power outage on a warm summer night is one thing.  A major earthquake would be something else.  We take it as a useful warning.

Now, apparently there was a speech?

Picture from the SD Union Tribune

Remembering Kirstin

JCF represented the FoJ community at Kirstin Paisley's memorial last month and sends these scans of the order of service.  Plus, appropriately, a recipe for bread. You should be able to click for a closer view!

Sad news about Göran

Long time friend at Fr Jake's and Friends-of-Jake Göran Koch-Swahne, a Swedish priest and formidable Biblical scholar, has been ill for some time, and has now entered hospice. I am assuming this means the same in Sweden as it does here. Notes are being put on his facebook. Our thoughts are with him!

Community

A few weeks ago, the Episcopal Café posted a study that showed that religious people are healthier. This is not a surprise.

People do better connected to other people. We are social creatures. And if you are connected, you can’t do “them vs us”, because you know Them. If you aren’t connected, it’s easy to segregate, balkanize, fractionate. And it’s stressful to do that.

A book published a few years ago, called Bowling Alone decried the loss of community in modern American society. It used to be that you Belonged to something. Not just church, but your Club, or your Bowling League, or something else that took you out from the cocoon of your life and echo chamber of your social class. That doesn’t happen now much, outside of church.

SO why are religious people healthier? I posit it is because of the effects of community—and the old bowling leagues, or neighborhood groups, would have showed the same effect.

One thing I’ve noticed since I started going to church with BP is the community effect. BP describes getting to know me as “dragging you out from under a rock” because I am by nature compulsively private and unwilling to reach out. My background is stiff-upper-lip English and German —emotion is weakness. I told her that one of the things I notice about going to church every week is how vulnerable it makes you. The carefully constructed shell that I have built, chips away. I’m not easy with that, but I’m getting better.

Think about it. The clergy know what’s going on with you in a deeply personal way. You don’t have a mask with someone who may have advised you through something very private and whom you still see every week. Like the obligatory counseling we went through for our Blessing: the wonderful priest who led that, knows a lot that is very personal about us and might make me blush! But I look forward to seeing her on Sunday nonetheless. During the Prayers of the People, you hear who’s asking for prayers, and you think “Oh, dear. I didn’t know H’s mom died” or “that’s bad. I wonder if M’s cancer is back” and at coffee you look for them for a hug, or an informal casserole committee. BP grew up with this everyone-knows kind of thing, and finds the community family to be a warm, supportive blanket. She gives me a quizzical look that I’m still getting used to this openness and exposure.

As you know, my Dad died on Tuesday. You, my internet church friends, have sent your prayers and virtual hugs, which are very welcome as an expression of your love. Dad would have appreciated that; he still identified as a Roman Catholic (although he didn't really practice). We’ll be with mom this weekend, 500 miles away from our home, when they read his name out at St Paul’s in the prayers for the dead. Our real life church friends will look for us at coffee to give us a hug. They will join us and you in that essential aspect of mourning even at a distance. It’s the community aspect that I have learned to value from you all. Thank you.

Note to blogmasters re. missing comments

Recently, thanks to a remark by counterlight, I became aware that Blogger has changed how it handles comments. Now, if you go to the dashboard and choose "comments" you see three categories: "published", "awaiting moderation" and "spam. " I looked at the "spam" comments which go through a filter, and found quite a number in there were not spam, but were comments by blog regulars, including myself! All of which I promptly approved. There have been no further inappropriate designations.

So, blogmasters, drop into the comments tab occasionally and make sure that blogger isn't mis-labeling your commenters.

As for OUR comment policy at FoJ: we do moderate the comments to this blog. There is no posting on older posts without active approval by one of us. We give wide latitude to comments on current posts, but we will delete any that we consider inappropriate (and potentially anyone else's that responded). We follow Jake's rule: it's our house, and you are here as our guests. Our loyal readers can help by (1) not responding to obvious trolling, and (2) letting us know if you notice anything wrong.

Blogs to contemplate: St Laika's and the Anchorhold

The Rev Jonathan Hagger (Madpriest) has launched a new blog, St Laika's, which is a worship blog. It features the Daily Office (including the resonant voice of the Rev. Jonathan) and seeks to find a communal worship space in the far-flung internet, not limited to any single (denomi)nation.

A companion blog, The Anchorhold, will focus on spirituality, contemplation, and prayer.

These are serious blogs, with serious intentions to build spiritual community. Madpriest will continue his irreverent commentary at OCICBW, but I for one am pleased to see these thoughtful, mature blogs develop and look forward to seeing them thrive.

Go check them out.

What the CofE can learn from TEC

Writing in the Times of London, a British expatriate talks about her Episcopal Church in Los Angeles, and what the Church of England could learn from TEC:

I hate to sound as if I’m boasting, but at the Anglican church my family attends in Los Angeles, you have to go early if you want a seat.....St James Church, which sits at the intersection of an affluent middle-class neighbourhood, and many poorer communities in LA, is an Episcopal Church, that is the American equivalent of the Church of England. But, unlike its British cousins, it is packed because it goes out of its way to create a community in a big, sprawling city.....

When I moved to LA a dozen or so years ago, religion was incidental to my life. ....But the combination of having children and moving to the US changed everything. It led to finding a school for my boys that happened to be attached to an Episcopal church, which meant there were all-school chapel services, and care for the spiritual well being of a child, not just academic achievement — something with which we were familiar from our own childhoods. Subconsciously, my husband and I were probably seduced by the similarities the school had with memories of England.

We started attending the church. Our eldest joined the choir. The hymns were the same, even if they got the tunes wrong, and the words of the service were as I remembered them growing up in a village in Hertfordshire 40-odd years before.

While churches in England have, for the most part, modernised their services in an attempt to attract bigger crowds — some of them becoming painfully evangelical and happy clappy — the Episcopal church in the US still uses the older, traditional liturgies, the ones that I remember nostalgically. It was these superficial trappings that appealed to us originally. My husband, who writes music for a living, is a sucker for a choir — but it is the values that we found there that has really kept us coming back.

At our church, it is not unusual to see children with two mums or two dads, sitting next to Koreans, African-Americans, Hispanics, as well as many white middle-class families. There are monied people from Beverly Hills, rubbing shoulders with artists from downtown. Gay people next to straight. It’s jolly, social and somehow has a relevance to everyone’s life. It reflects an acceptance of all, the kind of value I’d like my children to have. And it is a community. Spirituality, I believe, comes from acknowledging that we are part of something greater than just ourselves.....

I am now largely embarrassed by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, who took it upon himself to advise the bishops of the diocese of LA against electing the Rev Canon Mary D. Glasspool to be a bishop, because she happens to be openly gay.

I asked our rector, the Rev Paul Kowalewski, why his church was always full. “We are part of a community,” he says. “In a big city like Los Angeles, people are looking for a community. We give them the welcome they are looking for.”

Our friend Mapko

Our blog-friend Marko (Mapko) has suffered a devastating loss-- his partner Nikolai has been killed in a car accident. Please hold Marko in your thoughts.