Sunday Smile – Mr. Deity

Sit back, relax and watch our favorite deity at work.

- – the chaplain

 

Metaphor, Fantasy, Reality, Nightmare

Image via Wikipedia

You may have noticed that I haven’t picked at the low-hanging fruit over at Army Barmy for quite a while. I hardly ever check out the place anymore, since I’m no longer interested in what religionists of any persuasion have to say. After all, I haven’t read or heard anything new from them yet; even the sex scandals are re-runs. However, I am mildly interested in the fact that Major (he was promoted recently) Army Barmy will be leaving Australia and returning to Canada this summer. Since he and his family will be living near some people I know very well, I wouldn’t be surprised if I start hearing first-hand, eyewitness tales about the major’s misadventures. So, with all that in mind, I checked out today’s barmy post and discovered this hilarious little gem:

One of the great warriors of The Salvation Army today calls everyone by their rank…. [H]e is a warrior in a war…. These are not courtesy titles for him. It’s real. As Anthony Castle has made famous, “We are not a metaphor.”

Oh. Good. Grief. If I were religious, I’d have to do years of penance for laughing at the daft. In fact, I’d have to do so much penance that eternity would expire before I earned my release from purgatory. In greater fact, I’d likely be judged as thoroughly irredeemable, denied the option of penance, and parachuted past purgatory straight into hell. Clearly, it’s a good thing I’m not religious.

The strange thing is, Anthony Castle is right – he and Major Army Barmy and the rest of their colleagues are not metaphors. But, he’s right for the wrong reason. He thinks he’s right because he takes seriously the notion that he and his colleagues are engaged in a cosmic battle between Good and Evil, God and Satan, the Kingdoms of Heaven and Hell. That’s a mistaken belief. The real reason he’s right is because he and his colleagues are not warriors, either literal or metaphorical, at all. They’re just deluded.

Period.

I know that sounds strong and judgmental and unkind and all sorts of other nasty things. All I can say is, sometimes the truth hurts.

Mr. Castle, Major Army Barmy, and all of their delusional friends are are not real soldiers, and their uniforms, ranks and other props are not real. The only battles that religious fanatics fight are the battles they themselves create. They see Satan and his demon legions everywhere, so they don their armor and uniforms, sound the battle cry and commence the warfare. All of them are participating in a huge fantasy that makes D&D look like child’s play. (Oops. My bad. D&D is child’s play). Their fantasy is particularly harmful because their characters participate in the real world all the time. That wouldn’t be bad in itself. What’s bad is that they are incapable of distinguishing their fantasy from everyone else’s reality. They interpret the world as if it’s part of their fantasy, and, even worse, they seek to impose their fantasy on everyone in the world. As far as they’re concerned, every person on Earth is a player in their game. And, as far as they’re concerned, the only way to quit the game is to die. Literally.

The fantasy world that William Booth created is relatively congenial. That doesn’t change the fact that Booth was a religious fanatic. Many who have followed in Booth’s footsteps are also religious fanatics, albeit relatively harmless ones (usually). The difficulty for fanatics of different faiths, and holders of no faiths, is that it’s often impossible to distinguish benign fanatics from malicious ones; the group boundaries are fuzzy, at best, and constantly shifting. Conflicts grounded in contradictory religious doctrines make life dangerous for enthusiastic players and unwilling conscripts alike. Life all over the world would be far more peaceful if religious believers regarded their beliefs as helpful metaphors rather than actual facts of the matter. Since that often is not the case, however, all of us are stuck in a world where some fanatics’ fantasies are the stuff of other people’s nightmares.

– the chaplain

 

Bumper Sticker Fun

Even though I refuse to put bumper stickers on my car, I don’t have the same aversion to posting them on my blog. So, this post will feature a few sayings and bumper stickers I found on the Internet this evening. Most of these, plus many more, can be found at Zazzle.

Did any of those get you thinking, grinning, laughing, crying…? Leave a comment or three and let me know. Multiple submissions will be accepted.

– the chaplain

 

Religious Encounters of the Tourist-In-Italy Kind

None of you, particularly those who have visited Italy, will be surprised by my observation that there are churches everywhere in Venice and Rome. It may be going too far to say that there are churches on every corner, but it is fair to say that one need not walk more than a few blocks to get from one church to another. Some churches are small and easily overlooked. Others are fair-to-middling sized, and others can only be missed if one is blind. Rome is also littered with the remains of its pre-Christian, pagan past. There’s simply no escaping religion and its symbols in Italy.

In addition to these inevitable physical encounters with religions, the deacon and I had some interesting personal interactions and observations during our (far too) brief Italian sojourn. Three of these had to do with the way our tour guides discussed the sites we saw.

Two of the guides, the one who showed us around Piazza San Marco and the Doge’s Palace in Venice, and the one who showed us the Roman Forum, spoke of religious legends in rather neutral tones. They repeatedly referred to the “traditions” associated with the sites we toured. The lady in Venice, especially, often looked a bit sheepish as she told a tale, then finished by grinning and saying, “that’s the tradition.”

St. Mark's Basilica - detail

Temple of the Vestal Virgins

In contrast, the lady who guided us through the Vatican Museum, the Sistine Chapel, the tombs of the popes and St. Peter’s Basilica, spoke like a true believer. She didn’t come right out and say, “I believe this.” But, she gave her spiels with a slant that implied that she held the things she was saying as precious truths. The most striking example was when she discussed scientific tests that had been performed on what many believe are the remains of St. Peter. She concluded her presentation by saying, “Are these really the bones of St. Peter?” Then, she answered her question by smiling broadly and enthusiastically nodding her head, yes.

Vatican - a view from Vatican City

The final encounter I want to discuss is not about Italian attitudes toward religion, but about the religion that dominates the Italian landscape: Roman Catholicism. One of the tours the deacon and I took in Rome was a Rome By Night bus tour. The tour began at about 8:00 p.m. and concluded with dinner in a little off-the-beaten-path restaurant. Dinner began at about 10:15 p.m. and concluded around 12:00 a.m., give or take a few minutes. (Italians take their time eating; meals are social events, not mere means of physical sustenance for them. That’s an attitude I like and am determined to adopt more regularly). On this occasion, the deacon and I shared a table, and a sizable carafe of wine, with a fellow we’d never met before and probably never will see again. Since a stop by St. Peter’s Basilica – to see the exterior in its evening illumination – was one of the last stops before dinner, I shouldn’t have been surprised (although I was, a little bit) when Carlo began talking about religion.

St. Peter's Basilica at Night

Carlo, having been born and raised in Puerto Rico, had grown up in the Catholic Church. When he was about 16, Carlo got a job and began spending less time at his local church. The local priest was concerned and visited Carlo’s home to encourage him to make sure that he didn’t get too busy to save room in his life for God. Since priests had always visited his home, Carlo didn’t think too much about the priest’s interest in him at that point. What spooked him was the night that he left work and found the priest waiting for him outside. Apparently, the priest had called someone (not Carlo himself) to find out where Carlo worked and what time he’d be finished. Carlo thought this was more than a bit creepy, so, from that time forward, he minimized his contacts with the priest. And, he found out later that his antenna had been in good working order. It came out, not too long after these events, that the priest had molested some boys in the parish. That was when Carlo realized just how close he had come to being another victim. Needless to say, Carlo has little use for Mother Church these days.

Not surprisingly, the artifacts of religious traditions and history are obvious in Italy. What’s less obvious is whether many Italians, while proudly acknowledging their history, continue to take those traditions seriously. It’s a question I find interesting ground for further investigation.

– the chaplain

 

Loose Ends and Traffic

In this post I’m going to tie up a loose end, and share, briefly, my impressions of navigating around Rome.

First – the loose end. Several readers cracked last week’s Papal Postcard code. For those of you who didn’t crack the code, here’s the solution:

Wanted for aiding, abetting and conspiring to conceal crimes against children. Their trust was betrayed by men who insisted on being called, “Father,” and women whom they were compelled to call, “Sister.” If you see this man, or anyone dressed like him, run away as quickly as you can.

Next – my impressions of navigating around Rome. One of the first things I noticed, and you may notice it in the photos below, is that there are very few large vehicles in Rome. The many small cars we saw (in the photos below, you’ll spot a few of the many Smart cars we saw) were accompanied by numerous motorcycles/scooters. Another thing I noticed was that dividing lines on the road, when they exist at all, are treated as suggestions rather than requirements. I think it was Rick Steves who cited the interesting statistic that Rome has about 2 million cars and 300,000 public parking spaces. In short, I discovered that Rome is a city where

PARKING…

IS A CHALLENGE,

DRIVING…

IS AN ADVENTURE,

AND CROSSING THE STREET…

IS AN EXTREME SPORT!

The deacon and I did the majority of our navigating on foot. At busy intersections, the keys to survival were

• getting embedded in groups with locals who knew how to cross the street, and
• crossing quickly; dawdling was dangerous, or even deadly.

When we didn’t walk, we rode buses and quickly developed immense respect for drivers who deftly maneuvered large, unwieldy vehicles through crowded Roman streets. I tip my hat to them.

Finally – If (or should I say when?) you visit Rome, take care to avoid men wearing embroidered gowns and silk shoes, and either walk or take the bus. Whatever you do, don’t drive unless you have a greater taste for adventure than I do.

– the chaplain