Killing the Buddha

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(BTW,  besides being a freelance cryptozoologist and a devoted typesetter, David Lloyd Rabig is also performer and writer living in Brooklyn. He was most recently seen as Mr. Person in “Well, Mr. Person, How Did You Do It?” at the Joyce Soho. And this lost Keillor recording was first heard on Gabe Silva‘s podcast, “Friends of Davey Jones.”)

Related: America, audio, Lutheranism, media, satire, storytelling

Back in 2009, I published a book called Cults, Conspiracies and Secret Societies—a serious-minded but basically gee-whiz impulse-buy type compendium of odd, offbeat, and scary beliefs and belief systems. “Mystics,” I wrote in its introduction, “believe that multiplicity and change are illusory; that everything is ultimately interconnected…that our universe is a cosmic One in which all contradictions are resolved.” Crises, I added, “can make a temporary Kabbalist out of anyone.” Shocking events like the Kennedy assassination, 9/11, or the stock market crash of 1929 can produce “a certain paranoid, pattern-seeking frame of mind akin to the cultic and conspiratorial world-view, they can also engender charismatic, omnicompetent leaders—messianic father figures who take matters in hand and tell us what we need to think and do.”

2009 was as eventful a year as most of us had ever lived through. The financial meltdown that had begun in 2008 metastasized and spread throughout the world. America’s first multi-racial president was inaugurated. And Birthers and Tea Partiers became an inescapable presence—at first on the fringe, but increasingly in the inner corridors of power. Our new president, they said, wasn’t the post-partisan figure of hope that he had campaigned as, but a radical and a tyrant, bent upon the destruction of the American way of life. Obama was a Manchurian candidate, a secret Muslim. He was fighting a war against Christianity. He might even be the Anti-Christ. “This President,” said Glenn Beck, whose TV show had debuted on Fox News in January, 2009, “has exposed himself as a guy, over and over again, who has a deep hatred for white people.”

All of it had a familiar ring to me. Those obscure fringe groups I had spent the last year writing about—doomsday sects that were looking to rebuild the Temple in Jerusalem to hasten the advent of End Times, fanatical anti-Communists who believed that Eisenhower was an agent of Moscow—had said much the same things. Racism was a big part of the picture, but only a part of it.

I called it “the New Hate”—a toxic brew of racial, religious, gender, and nationalistic chauvinisms. Some of its themes—the danger of foreign-born people and foreign-minted ideas, the perfidy of international financiers and the put-upon virtue of society’s producer class—went back to nineteenth-century rural populism and even further, to the reactions of the propertied classes around the world to the bloody horrors of the French Revolution. Frank Gaffney’s Stealth Shariah sounded like nineteenth-century Nativist views of the Jesuits. Go back even further, to the fourteenth century, and there were the terrible rumors about the Knights Templar—that they worshipped the Devil, defiled the cross, were adepts in Arab magic, and committed unspeakable sexual acts.

Out of all this comes my latest book, The New Hate: A History of Fear and Loathing on the Populist Right. I write about the Illuminati panic of the 1790s, the anti-Mason scare of the 1820s, and the anti-immigrant and anti-Catholic Know Nothing movement that arose in the 1840s. I write about Henry Ford’s obsession with the “Jewish Problem” and The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, about the anti-Semitic occult religious movement founded by William Dudley Pelley in the 1930s, and the parallel rise of white and black nationalism in the 1950s. I compare Lindbergh and Limbaugh. If the New Hate sounds a great deal like the Old Hate, I conclude, that’s because it is.

My subject is not so much prejudice as America’s long-standing penchant for conspiratorial thinking, its never-ending quest for scapegoats—a failing, I should acknowledge, that the left is not altogether immune to either. At root, the issue is not so much partisanship as it is paranoia. Richard Hofstadter’s classic essay “The Paranoid Style in American Politics” has had an enormous influence on my thinking. But paranoia isn’t just a question of style, of form rather than substance. In some ways, it’s the default human condition. Our reptilian brains interpret every rustling of leaves as hungry bears or saber-toothed tigers pacing just beyond the firelight; they warn us that every stranger is a potential rival who might murder or rape us and enslave our children. It’s because we human beings carry so much of that kind of instinctive baggage that we need to be socialized. It’s why civilizations build schools and churches and the like; why parents teach their children to count to ten, to take a deep breath, to remember the Golden Rule—and why a politics that panders so blatantly to our resentments, to our ignorance and prejudice, is so deplorable.

If you live in the New York area and would be interested in learning more about The New Hate, I will be having a public conversation with the Daily Beast columnist and author Michelle Goldberg (Kingdom Coming: The Rise of Christian Nationalism and The Means of Reproduction: Sex, Power, and the Future of the World) at the Greenlight Bookstore in Fort Greene, Brooklyn on February 8 at 7:30 (686 Fulton Street). Wine and snacks will be served.

If you are in the DC area, I will be reading at Politics & Prose on 5015 Connecticut Avenue, NW in Washington, DC on February 9 at 7:00.

And if you are in Portland, Oregon, I will be reading at Powells Books on 1005 W Burnside on February 16 at 7:30. I hope to see and speak to some of you.

Related: books, friends of KtB, politics, Religious Right

While reporting on trans issues, a friend connected me with Shay Kearns (aka Anarchist Reverend). In my email exchanges with this seminary graduate (M.Div from Union Theological Seminary in New York, NY), I found myself drawn to his exploration of a new way forward for queer theology; one that isn’t focused on apologetics but instead is interested in making queer experience central to the conversation and allowing queer experience to inform and enlighten the rest of the church.

Those interested in similar explorations of a queer theology that embraces all within the LGBT spectrum can delve into Shay’s story in this podcast with the Iconocast, a collaborative podcast that espouses Christianity from an anarchist perspective.

Related: gender and sexuality, LGBTQ, theology, transgender

Back in November of 2011, an epic act of state occurred in New York City—the seizure and destruction of the OWS library. More seizures ensued. The library reappeared on the Brooklyn Bridge. Readers and writers all over the world spoke out against the so-called Bloomberg Bibliocide. What’s been happening with our favorite library? KtB recently caught up with People’s Librarian Betsy Fagin via email.

Related: activism, New York, politics

Early this past summer, I came across a certain quotation opening an essay by Mary Elizabeth King—now a columnist for Waging Nonviolence and a friend. This was right about the time I first got the idea in my head that I needed to learn how to tell the stories of how great resistance movements are planned, during a conference where I was meeting revolutionaries from around the world. The quotation was from “The Present Crisis,” penned by nineteenth-century poet James Russell Lowell, and which became a hymn popular during the civil rights era:

Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide,
In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side;
Some great cause, God’s new Messiah, offering each the bloom or blight,
Parts the goats upon the left hand, and the sheep upon the right,
And the choice goes by forever ‘twixt that darkness and that light.

Those words seemed to capture what any revolution must be, especially when it remains just an idea: “Some great cause, God’s new Messiah.” It’s unimaginably gigantic, impossibly messianic. Yet somehow, there comes “the moment to decide,” despite “the bloom or blight” that might arise in the course of a movement, and its inevitable, incarnate shortcomings. One has no choice but to choose, for inaction also is a choice.

These were the lines I kept in my head while I attended the early planning meetings of what would become Occupy Wall Street—“Some great cause, God’s new Messiah” if there ever was one. What I experienced in those meetings is now the subject of my article in the February issue of Harper’s Magazine, “Some Assembly Required” (subscription necessary, or get it at your local newsstand). It follows the incipient movement from the third planning meeting until September 16, the night before the occupation began. Where it leaves off, my articles at Waging Nonviolence and The Nation pick up. (There was also one snippet about the planning at Killing the Buddha.) The chance to do this Harper’s story, though, was the opportunity I was really hoping for; something with the space and support to delve more deeply than I elsewhere could into “that darkness and that light” of a movement that has changed and is changing the world.

Related: activism, politics, writing

Killing the Buddha got a nice mention by Ryan Chittum and Catherine Rampell in Audit Notes at the Columbia Journalism Review. They were fascinated by Rowan Moore Gerety’s piece “Buying the Body of Christ“, especially the killer quote by communion-wafer maker Cavanagh Company’s general manager: “We take a lot of pride in putting our family name on a product that will eventually become the body and blood of Jesus.”

I mean, really, who wouldn’t?

The piece also received a top mention on the ever lovely Arts & Letter Daily, under Articles of Note.

Do you ever get taken by surprise when watching shows with your spouse or significant other or pet? I was watching That Mitchell and Webb Look with my husband and pets the other night. You know how it is: Last night of vacation, laptop, electric mattress pad, wind blowing, had my face all lotioned up, was feeling 95 years young. The Vermont Country Store Catalogue mocks me at times like this ’cause I sure could use some insulated underpants and an electric nose cozy and some of that barfy old-timey marzipan candy with extra walnuts. I’d eat it. I had just huffed a bunch of herbal “Rest Easy” supplements from Whole Foods and exactly nothing. was. happening. “Natural” remedies: I shake my fist at thee.

In the fall of 2010, I set off to tour the United States talking up Jesus Died for This? and conducting research for Ancient Future Disciples. These recent pilgrimages allowed me to witness an explosion of global grassroots communities who are moving away from the attractional model of “cool” church that showcases the next big thing in order to go deeper, much deeper.

Come join me for an online webinar sponsored by the Center for Progressive Renewal, where I will explore the diversity present in these communities. Unlike more traditional mainline and progressive evangelical/emergent communities, I found that half of these communities were led by women, with a number of them led by women of color. Also, LGBT people could be found in all levels of leadership. In addition, some of these communities attracted a range of seekers ranging from dissatisfied evangelicals to spiritual atheists.

Related: events, friends of KtB

The psychiatric hospital where I work as an interfaith chaplain has a strict holiday policy: no flammable objects and no decorations with cords on the locked wards.  That means no lights on Christmas trees, battery-operated Menorahs, and tea lights for Sabbath candles.

Last week, a group Jewish high-school students came to spread Chanukah cheer—among patients diagnosed with psychosis, schizophrenia, addictions, anorexia, depression, and a host of other psychiatric disorders on the DSM IV. I accompanied the student group to “the Horizon,” a unit that provides Kosher meals, prayer shawls, and Tefillin for observant Jewish patients. My fellow chaplains and I were not to let the plastic wrappers the dreidels come in out of our sight: Patients may try to swallow them and choke.

The activities room on the Horizon warmed up, after a few rounds of Oy Chanukah.  “Say ‘Al Hanissim,’ praise God for the miracles. And we will all dance together in a circle!” The high-school kids and a handful of patients started the horah. We chaplains joined in, drawing the circle wide for the non-Jewish patients who were making construction-paper snowflakes with a volunteer art therapist.

Then it was time to play spin-the-dreidel. On the periphery of the game circle there was a girthy man whose hospital gown was coming out of the back of his black pants, held up by suspenders. “Do you want to play, J.?” a mental-health worker asked. He nodded, like a shy child, his kippah askew. On the next round, he won five chocolate coins and decided to quit while he was ahead. But he couldn’t take the gelt into his room: Gold-foil candy wrappers are safety hazards on psych wards.

After the game wound down, a Hasidic patient started chanting solo, a Yiddish song he says is available on CD in Crown Heights and Boro Park. “Rebbe, do you have a minyan in the hospital?” one of the high-school kids asked.

“No, the closest minyan’s in White Plains,” the cantor told him.

Meanwhile, the rest of us started cleaning up. “You see those plastic wrappers the dreidels came in?” the cantor said. “Just make sure you throw them away.” The rebbe knows the rules: No loose plastic on the Horizon.

Related: holidays, Judaism, New York

This being Baltimore, we’re celebrating Christmas Eve morning by gathering around the grave of Johns Hopkins. He’s buried in the expansive Greenmount Cemetery, which is now located in the so-called “Station North Arts District.” Doctors tell tales of great men and women and their muscle, bravado and intellect. We hear about Mary Elizabeth Garrett, whose grave is in eyeshot of Johnsy’s (I think of him that way). She was the daughter of a railroad magnate, and she made John Hopkins Hospital admit women to the medical school on a completely equal basis. When John Singer Sargent was commissioned to paint her portrait, he liked being in her presence as to a mouse being in the company of a boa constrictor. “A Woman of Quietly Realized Enthusiasms” reads her grave marker.

I’m not a doctor at these things, but I am a cancer patient, still. I was just in Johns Hopkins Medical Oncology a few days ago and I have a lot on my mind. I’m existing in a strange space where, for all intents and purposes, I’m out of treatment but the doctors still refer to the cancer in the present tense, whereas civilians tend to think of me as being “well.”  No one really knows for sure if I have cancer or not, but odds are that I do, so what can be done or not done to stop the cells from dividing and massing once again? My body and its functions have become completely unpredictable. I’m taking pills. I’m considering my options.

I place a coin on Hopkins’ grave and ask him only to think of me. A photographer from the Washington Post appears and snaps a photo of my daughter doing the same. I consider the vestiges of civilization, and how graves give people a place to gather and speak. Then we’re off to see where John Wilkes Booth is interred, and hear an impromptu lecture on him and the Booth family. Having touched the past and shaken hands with each other, we can now continue with our day. My doctor is going to call me the day after Christmas.

As with most things, the circles repeat, infinitely.

Related: Baltimore, cancer, Christmas, ritual

Oh Ross. You are making me violate my custody of my mind with your words again. You’re talking Hitchens and his “atheism” or whatever, but the most important thing about this column is the part where Hitchens “cornered” you in a “pantry” at a “Washington dinner party” and “insisted on having a long argument about the Gospel narratives.”

I have to imagine the two of you flushed, a little boozy, excited at being able to talk God with another man, a sportcoated man, in a pantry, at an important Washington party. Oh! The knees weaken a little just thinking about it! And I imagine you and Hitchens snuggled in there together, tasting each other’s breath, smelling each other’s manly scent—and somehow, even though you’re both talking, the words float away and you lock eyes and both think this in unison:

Your paunch
is touching
my own

Sssigh. Damn you, Ross.  I’m going to be racking up more penance and it’s all your fault.

Related: atheism, Christopher Hitchens, communicant, mary valle, ross douthat

Readers may have been surprised to find that Killing the Buddha did not feature a blog post about the nativity scene fracas in Santa Monica, wherein atheists acquired and used most of the traditional display spots to advertise their philosophy. This story was relevant to our area of coverage and to our audience. We could have easily written something about it.

But if you think about it, writing a blog post for a literary journal is ultimately a meaningless and futile endeavor. In the distant future, long after the servers hosting KtB have frozen on the lifeless surface of earth, and only remnants of our blog posts drift out into the cosmos, forever indecipherable and steadily weakening (not to mention totally out-of-context), the absurdity of our efforts here will becoming starkly clear.

Wait, you say. The absurdity against which we toil doesn’t understand the fires inside our chests. It doesn’t know that we’ll forever forge ahead in the face of certain doom, our sense of purpose impervious to disruption! In the absence of a meta-narrative bloggers can only seek to create a new one! Yes, we say. A new meta-narrative, one which will one day be eaten by the worms that eat our brains, and the brains of our children, and the brains of their children, until the worms are swallowed by the sun, and the sun dies, and all form dissolves at the unforgiving hand of entropy.

A blog post about atheists would have meant nothing to the cold, indifferent, and unstoppable forces that rule the world. Its existence would have formed a mere blip in the flow of cosmic time. Not only would it have been forgotten; all consciousness that could have remembered it would have eventually perished. Only a fool would have written such a post. His time would have been better spent eating Cup O’Noodles and surfing Facebook.

Related: atheism, California, Christmas

Mormons have been in the zeitgeist of late, what with Mitt running, the Book of Mormon winning Tonys, and The New York Times writing about Mormon hipsters. They’re so widely seen as behind the times, though, that a recent skinny jean snafu at Brigham Young University in Idaho inspired nationwide reportage.

A few months ago the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints launched a publicity campaign to improve their image—the “I’m a Mormon” thing you might have seen. But perhaps better countering the stereotype of the corny Mormon are the Mormon fashion bloggers.

Mormonism dictates that women stay home and dress modestly, perhaps making this type of blogger inevitable. Most of them are young, good-looking, married, and at least marginally hip, and they dress by the aphorism “Modest is Hottest.” None of the ones we’ve seen would stand out on the street in any American city. But by the very act of blogging about dress, they’re grabbing some power from within the Mormon hierarchy. It’s a significant act worthy of our attention, and we wouldn’t be surprised if some conservative inflammation in the church one day squashed it out.

We asked three of the Mormon fashion bloggers to weigh in on philosophical questions, via gchat, and found them to be quite liberal in their fashion attitudes.

Brandilyn Haynes, blogger at Cats and Cardigans and a clothing boutique proprietor in Rexburg, Idaho.

KtB: Was the fig leaf an improvement?

Brandilyn: I’d call it a necessary evolution.

KtB: On your blog you say that you like to write stories because “they’re good for my soul and my brain.” What’s the difference between the soul and the brain?

Brandilyn: I’d connect my soul with my spirit, which would be the essence of who I am. My brain helps develop my spirit, but I’d say it has it’s own, separate functions.

KtB: Do you feel that fashion choices are personal choices, or are there any absolute fashion dos and don’ts?

Brandilyn: Hmm. I’d say they’re very personal. Even rules that I may have previously considered “absolutes” I find myself breaking (like wearing black and brown together). So I’d say personal for sure.

KtB: It’s the Latter Day. You’re ascending to heaven. What are you wearing?

Brandilyn: If I’m ascending to heaven, I’m probably not too concerned about what I’m wearing! Hopefully that doesn’t happen on a weekend, though, when I’d be in sweats. Yikes.

Kayla (Last Name Withheld), blogger at Freckles in April.

KtB: Do you feel that there are ultimate fashion dos and don’ts, or is fashion all personal choice?

Kayla: The more I read fashion blogs the more I think fashion is all personal choice. It’s all a matter of taste and preference. What I wear probably seems staid and boring to some but it suits me.

KtB: Do you have a fashion mentor?

Kayla: Nope.

KtB: I thought you were going to say Jesus!

Kayla: I’m sure his robe things were super comfortable and all but He is not really my fashion mentor.

KtB: Ever received a divine fashion insight?

Kayla: A couple years ago Elder Uchtdorf gave a talk on finding our own happiness. He mentioned how we can find great joy in creating. I make or alter a lot of my clothes and that talk comes to mind a lot. I don’t know that I’ve necessarily received diving fashion insight but I definitely feel like the time I spend creating pretty things for myself is something that God approves of.

KtB: Okay, I have to ask the underwear question. What’s up with it?

Kayla: I’ve heard this explanation before and it’s the one that makes the most sense to me. So there are priests, nuns, etc. of other faiths who wear special robes, vestments, collars, whatever and those special clothing items are there as a reminder of the covenants they’ve made with God. Sometimes you need a real, tangible reminder. It’s the same thing. We just wear ours under our clothes.

KtB: Does it present any particular fashion challenges?

Kayla: Sometimes. It’s an extra layer of fabric and they can bunch and roll sometimes. But mostly they’re not too difficult. It’s just like wearing a t-shirt and thin bike shorts under everything.

Chloe Rushworth, blogger at Memoirs of a Little Thing Called Life, lives outside of Leeds, England.

KtB: Do you feel that people are naturally fashionable, or is fashion something for which we must constantly struggle?

Chloe: You are who you are, and I don’t think anyone should have to struggle with it, at the end of the day not everyone is into fashion.

KtB: A great outfit doesn’t just spring out of the ether randomly, right? Can you talk about your process of design?

Chloe: I guess I take a lot of inspiration from magazines. I tend to follow trends but try and make them my own, and I buy key items that I can rework through the season. I don’t spend hours picking my outfits out, that’s just something that comes naturally I guess.

Related: fashion, Mormon, popular culture

An ongoing hobby of mine is to try and help keep my favorite theologian, William Stringfellow, in circulation. In the past, I’ve written about his ideas on biography, on the sexuality and the circus, on his partner Anthony Towne’s amazing obituary for God, and more. This time, in Commonweal, I had the opportunity to review an important new book about him—An Alien in a Strange Land, by Anthony Dancer. It goes a little something like this:

A lifelong Episcopalian and inveterate Bible-thumper, Stringfellow was a Protestant in the most etymological sense. He saw Christianity as a call to dissent. The great Reformed theologian Karl Barth recognized this, and urged an audience at the University of Chicago in 1962 to “Listen to this man!” Barth saw in Stringfellow’s writing a “theology of freedom” more concerned with proclaiming the gospel than with catering to the habits and fads of American society—a theology unwilling, as Stringfellow put it, “to interpret the Bible for the convenience of America.” Barth also saw in him a way of doing theology free from the pomp and insularity of academia.

That Stringfellow has remained mostly ignored in academic theology is at least in part his own doing. He would say that, for the sake of vocation, he had “died to career,” both in law and theology. Though he did quite a lot of each, he refused to define himself by the professional standards of either—they’re principalities in themselves. His writing is decidedly vernacular even when demanding, the product of reading far more from the Bible and the newspaper (as Barth urged preachers to do) than from the theological canon. “A person must come to the Bible with a certain naivety,” Stingfellow wrote; “one must forego anything that would demean God to dependence upon one’s own thoughts.” What he wrote is a model for serious, engaged, and yet decidedly lay theology, carried out with a sense of both play and dire seriousness. Caught as we are between the blogosphere rabble and the over-specialized academy, we need more of this today.

Best of all, the folks at Commonweal realized that they had an article by Stringfellow in their archives: a 1972 call to “Impeach Nixon Now. What’s so special about that? you might ask. Weren’t a lot of people calling for Nixon’s resignation in 1972? The thing is, the article is dated May 26. The Watergate break-in was June 17 of that year, less than a month later. Stringfellow’s concern, though, was more serious than what ultimately brought about Nixon’s resignation: above all, the continuation of a brutal, illegal, unnecessary war.

We should have listened.

Related: America, books, law, politics, theology

Reading the correspondence of Henry and William James, it’s surprising to see just how much of William’s will-to-believe doctrine and his ideas of the religiously “sick souled” appear, in nascent form, in letters to his brother. What’s even more surprising is measuring, in Henry’s replies, just how much of his brother’s thought crept into his evolving theory of fiction. I’m writing a book about the brothers’ letters for the University of Iowa Press, to be published next fall. Until then, I’m blogging the letters—one quote per day, with images attached, and sometimes a fragment or two of context. The effect of the blog, I hope, is not unlike how William described the experience of reading the letters of Schiller and Goethe: “The spectacle of two such earnestly living & working men is refreshing to the soul any one.”

Related: family, philosophy, psych, writing

I took BeliefNet’s Belief-O-Matic test and here are the results. Check out #1 and #27 out of #27. OK. Fine. I’ll light some candles and don a shawl and pray to the Goddess. Oh wait. I already do that.

The first shall be last and the last shall be first, Belief-O-Matic.

Click any Faith for more information Neo-Pagan (100%) Liberal Quakers (97%) Unitarian Universalism (94%) New Age (83%) Mahayana Buddhism (79%) Reform Judaism (79%) Secular Humanism (79%) Baha’i Faith (73%) Jainism (72%) Mainline to Liberal Christian Protestants (72%) Sikhism (68%) Taoism (64%) Theravada Buddhism (62%) Hinduism (58%) Scientology (58%) New Thought (52%) Nontheist (52%) Orthodox Quaker (51%) Islam (47%) Orthodox Judaism (47%) Christian Science (Church of Christ, Scientist) (42%) Mainline to Conservative Christian/Protestant (26%) Seventh Day Adventist (24%) Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (Mormons) (23%) Jehovah’s Witness (11%) Eastern Orthodox (9%) Roman Catholic (9%)

Related: Beliefnet, Catholicism, paganism

Hey, New York City KtB fans! This Saturday, Nov. 19 at 7pm, KtB contributor (and recent addition to the editorial collective) Brook Wilensky-Lanford will be reading from her recently published book Paradise Lust: Searching for the Garden of Eden at the legendary Bluestockings Bookstore, Cafe and Activist Center on the Lower East Side.

Paradise Lust is the true story of people who’ve searched for the Garden of Eden on Earth from the late 19th century to today. It was a New York Times Book Review Editors’ Choice and everything. (For a preview, read KtB editor Nathan Schneider’s interview with Brook at Religion Dispatches. Or Brook’s thoughts on the real location of Eden here on KtB.)

See more details and RSVP on Facebook. It’s a great chance to a) support a longstanding NYC  independent bookstore, b) help replenish the OWS Library, and c) get signed copies of Paradise Lust for everyone on your holiday-shopping list.  See you Saturday!

Related: Brook Wilensky-Lanford, events, Paradise Lust