Why is this Woman Defrocked?

Last week here in Seattle, with 200 friends, the former director of faith formation at St. Mark's Episcopal Cathedral, Ann Holmes Redding, celebrated both the publication of her first book, and 25 years as an ordained Episcopal priest.

Today, she was defrocked. For becoming a Muslim.

Twenty-one months after she announced her added affiliation, which spurred patient warnings and suggestions to search her heart from her disciplinary superior, Bishop Geralyn Wolf of Rhode Island, she received today a letter "deposing" her. In it, Bishop Wolf states her belief--originally set forth by a church committee last fall--that "a priest of the Church cannot be both a Christian and a Muslim."

Ms. Redding, however, disagrees. In mid 2006, she was introduced to Muslim prayers, and "they moved her profoundly." Becoming a Muslim "is not an automatic abandonment of Christianity," she insists. Of her defrocking, she said, "I am very sad. I'm sad at the loss of this cherished honor of having served as a priest." She also is saddened by the "narrow vision of what the church accepts."

Eugene Webb, professor emeritus of comparative religion at the University of Washington, is on her side. He says today in my source for all this, the Seattle Times, "there are streams of tradition that are mutually exclusive; there are also streams that are not mutually exclusive. Ann is exploring those."

Fill me in, Ms. Redding. I read about Christians murdered by Muslims for their faith in Pakistan, India, Indonesia, Israel, Australia, throughout Africa--and here on 9-11. Exactly which Muslim streams welcome female Episcopal priests?

Apparently, the now-retired bishop who previously supervised Redding in the Olympia diocese here in Washington, "said he regarded the priest's dual faith as exciting in its interfaith possibilities." I can only imagine.

Redding says she was "called to both faiths," and, given her new book, Out of Darkness Into Light: Spiritual Guidance in the Quran with Reflections from Christian and Jewish Sources, (co-authored with Jamal Rahman and Kathleen Schmit Elias) she could add a third. There might be a little confusion, however, over which wife Abraham actually favored (Sarah or Hagar), and which son was bound and nearly sacrificed (Isaac or Ishmael); the contradictions take off from there. Oh, there could be a little issue with Jesus versus The Prophet Mohammad, too.

Redding maintains she has not "abandoned the Communion of the Episcopal Church by formal admission into a religious body not in communion with the Episcopal Church," as the commission who studied her case charged. She was given ample opportunity to gracefully resign from the priesthood, or drop her Muslim moniker, but she refused both.

As a result, she's trying to stretch her fifteen minutes of fame, looking for a contract for her memoirs and starting "Abrahamic Reunion West," a nonprofit seeking to "bring together the Abrahamic faiths."

I wish her well on her religious adventures.

Unfortunately, the last thing I read about an organization aiming to make nice between Muslims and surrounding communities was pretty grim. About six weeks ago, the founder of Bridges TV near Buffalo, New York--the purpose of which was to "overcome negative stereotypes" of Islam--was arrested for beheading his wife.

I don't associate that murderer with Ms. Redding in any way, of course, but I'd like to see how she reconciles principles of the "religion of peace" with the Episcopal denomination with which 55% of our founding fathers affiliated. They seem mutually exclusive to me.

Sick of Facebook

Last night I had a conversation with a friend who disclosed that she disabled her Facebook account. Not that I'd noticed my friend-count decline by one; I don't even know how many I've got (it's somewhere around 100) and I don't check Facebook every day--much less send out narcissistic announcements about my fleeting feelings and momentary interests. In fact, I'm finding it more and more irritating, a time-soaker that leaves me feeling slightly soiled, in need of a shower.

At the same time that my Facebook fascination has plummeted, another real-life friend decided she had to overcome her better instincts and join, lest she miss all the family photos of grandchildren and friends' little ones only available there. Her husband had joined awhile earlier, for business reasons--to increase visibility and ultimately sales of their products.

Was it a coincidence that today's New York Times business section blared the headline, "Is Facebook Growing Up Too Fast?" Having just earned its 200 millionth member, doubling in the last 8 months, the now international "social network" is having "issues."

I could have told them that.

My son and daughter rejected me as "friends." The new format leaves me cold. And soon, real-time blasts from "friends" will make the networking site little more than a Twitter-clone. With photos. Oh yes, and some "conditions of use" that scare me. I'm considering joining my flesh-and-blood friend and de-activating.

Am I the only one who's realizing that stalking people online is not only a colossal waste of time, but actually lowers me morally? That perhaps a preoccupation with others' soap operas and fascinations and, often--breakfast foods, mishaps, momentary blues and gripes, sucks me into the world of "lushon ha ra" (gossip, unnecessary talk about others' lives) that we Jews are cautioned against?

Actually, it's worse than that--immersion in wants and irks on Facebook isn't just about voyeurism, it's about training your own soul away from the transcendent and the long-term, and toward physical here-and-now selfishness. At the top of your own page, next to your own profile picture is a box plaintively asking, "What's on your mind?" (It used to say, so-and-so is... with a blank space). That's the first thing--what's with you? The next thing is to hit "enter" so the rest of your friends all know about it. As many times a day as you feel like inserting yourself in their worlds.

If, as my husband often points out, the two opposites pulling our actions are "do your duty" versus "follow your heart," Facebook indoctrinates toward the latter. No one on FB broadcasts what he, she or others "ought" or "should" do. It's all about want. It's all about feelings. Not much about responsibility, or postponing gratification for greater good or later reward. Either it's about me, now, or you, now. Or about target ads that wiggle on the side of the screen, which, the Times article notes, aim increasingly to "engage" Facebookers, hooking them deviously into products and services via "games" and quizzes. "What's your favorite color m-and-m?" Guess who paid for that on your screen?

I joined FB because I had to. I was doing research on a book and wanted to find out the results of a study conducted at a college. The results were only available on Facebook. Under protest, I created a page. For my mental health, I try to avoid it, but messages that people post, comments and "notifications" get sent through to my email. Most people seem to have a love-hate with Facebook; in fact the Times piece ends with an anecdote by a young woman who quit but rejoined six months later due to peer pressure, confessing, "They wanted me to be wasting my time on it just like they were wasting their time on it."

Exactly. Should I retire my account? (BTW, the photo is Mark Zuckerberg, Facebook founder.)

The Second Wife

Shabbat is my day to catch up on a week's pile of newspapers, and today I was struck by several stories--enough to write blog posts about them. But none moved me more than this one from Wednesday's New York Times.

It's the story of Mukhtar Mai, a Pakistani woman who in 2002 was ordered by a village council to be gang raped, punishment for a deed for which her 12-year-old brother had been framed, as part of a clan rivalry. "As members of the high-status tribe danced in joy, four men stripped her naked and took turns raping her. Then they forced her to walk home naked in front of 300 villagers," wrote Nicholas Kristof in the New York Times that September, in the first of his many articles about her plight.

Instead of committing suicide, as many rape victims there do out of disgrace, Mukhtar Mai accused her attackers, earning national attention and becoming a symbol of courage for women in oppressive societies. The government awarded her protection and a payment of $8,300, which she used to start schools, one for boys and another for girls; she immediately enrolled in the fourth grade of the girls' school. Her biography, In the Name of Honor: a Memoir, (2006) describes her ordeal.

Since then the number of schools she runs has expanded and she also heads an ambulance service and women's aid group. And in the news this week was the announcement of her marriage.

This is seemingly the happy ending for a woman whose life has been more than difficult. At 37, with all the publicity of her gang rape and subsequent legal travails, the prospects of a joyous romantic conclusion appeared dim.

But reading the article about her marriage left me appalled. It turns out that she relented to the proposals of the "constable" who had guarded her, Nasir Abbas Gabol, who is 7 years her junior, not out of love, but out of pity for his first wife. To whom he is still married.

Gabol's mistreatment of that first wife, Shumaila, was the clincher--"I am a woman and can understand the pain and difficulties faced by another woman," Mukhtar Mai told a reporter. And so, after her future spouse attempted suicide and threatened to divorce the first wife as gestures of his intent, Mukhtar Mai gave in, so she could impose conditions: that he give the first wife ownership of his house, a plot of land, and $125 a month.

For that, she remains in her village of Meerwala while he lives in his village. But, she said, per her status as wife #2, Gabol "can come here whenever he wants and finds it convenient."

Every day, Jews begin their "bruchot ha shachar," a series of morning blessings, with grateful acknowledgement that God "has not made me of the nations," i.e. a non-Jew. But it covers more than that in my mind--I am grateful for all aspects of our privileged life in the United States, where women have always enjoyed the respect that Judeo-Christian values supply. When I read of Mukhtar Mai and her loveless marriage, the clan rivalries that a Moslem caste system encourages, the little chance of escape these women face, I am awed by the freedoms we take for granted and the lifestyle we enjoy. I don't know what I ever did to deserve so many options, so many privileges, but I am reminded again not to waste any of them, nor complain about minor snafus.

Mukhtar Mai is the second wife; her husband can have up to four. What a contrast with American marriage, which joins one husband with one wife, ideally as equals and soulmates. This is another indicator that the battle against Islamic extremism is cultural, with democracy pitted against the same sharia law that condemned Mukhtar Mai to rape and disgrace. Not all cultures are alike, and I am fortunate to live where democracy prevails. I can only hope that some day Mukhtar Mai can enjoy similar liberties.

Tired of Hearing about Gay Marriage?

Aarrgh! No, I'm not suddenly a pirate; that's my expression for frustration.

One of my very best friends, whom I've known for, well, more years than I confess to, called me up today and said she liked my last post about gay marriage.

With barely a sentence in-between, she then said that she's tired of hearing about gay marriage, because she feels there's nothing she can do about it; she's a fish swimming upstream, and the gay lobbies are so powerful that even if the people vote their view, the lobbies will keep pushing for the courts to overturn it.

She said, "I feel like no amount of letter writing, or emails or phone calls will make a bit of difference; they're so determined. Gays who want to get married are such an infinitesimal number of people, why don't they just live their lives and enjoy all the rights that are the same as marriage and just leave us alone?"

She wants gay marriage advocates to buzz off, but since they're not, she'll succumb to them. She said sure, she'll vote for Prop 8, and she did, but once the aggressive gay marriage advocates press to undo it, well, she doesn't like it, but feels powerless.

Do you think I'm insane for staying so passionate about this issue? Should I join my friend and go out for some decaf coffee? Should I stop writing my book because nobody wants to hear about this anymore?

Wiping Out Rights--Not Possible with Proposition 8 in California

An article in the Thursday Wall Street Journal about gay marriage in California caught my eye. In his "Law Journal" column, Geoffrey A. Fowler offers his update on the battle to strike or uphold the people's clarification of the state constitution defining marriage as between one man and one woman. Needless to say--though absurdly, apparently necessary to say--the framers of California's state constitution in 1849 assumed "marriage" could only mean the joining of a man and a woman. But last year, the state supreme court did not hold that way--so the people voted to make their intention clear.

Last week, arguments supporting voters' will (Proposition 8) were made by Ken Starr, and opposed by former "Governor Moonbeam" Jerry Brown. It looks like the court will uphold Proposition 8, "partly out of respect for California's initiative process," throwing 18,000 gay "marriages" performed between May and the voters' reaction into doubt.

Ken Starr pointed out that a "legal notion" of "the putative spouse doctrine" would let those marriages continue, since it basically grandfathers in relationships made by those believing their joining was actually marriage, even if they really weren't.

The Journal piece says this "could open yet another legal challenge from an unmarried gay couple saying they are being treated unequally. 'We haven't seen this kind of targeted wiping out of a specific group's rights before,' says David Cruz, a professor at the University of Southern California Gould School of law."

Reading that nearly cost me my dinner. Well DUH, of course marriages between two of the same gender would be treated differently than marriages between opposites! They are basically, fundamentally, irreducibly different! Resisting the effort to homogenize two sexes into one doesn't imply one is inferior but recognizes the reality that they are different. All the popular paperbacks out there written by scientists telling us that women's brains are different from men's brains, and every cell in their bodies clearly marked as either male or female don't seem to be enough to convince these agenda-driven crusaders of simple fact.

Okay. Maybe one or two of these guys admit that male and female are different, but they think that shouldn't matter--for the purpose of marriage, they should be interchangeable. The mantra is "a person should be able to marry whomever he or she chooses."

Well, tough luck, even if gay marriage were the law, no one would be able to marry whom he or she chooses. A person could not marry his sibling. A person could not marry a second or third or fourth spouse. A person could not marry a child. A person could not marry his pet.

At least, not legally. I suppose a person could indeed perform a little ceremony and "marry" his sister or son or goat. But the government wouldn't recognize it, and I doubt gay activists would, either.

But the part of the article quote above that really irks me is not the fact gay marriage advocates ignore (and likely support!) continued restrictions on marriage. What gets my...well, goat...is the stupidity and ignorance of this David Cruz, supposedly aware of the legal rulings of his state, who suggests that any "rights" of gays who choose to legally couple would be removed or lost. And the reason for that is that California has a law, enacted in January, 2005, that specifically gives registered domestic partners in that state "the same rights, protections, and benefits, and shall be subject to the same responsibilities, obligations and duties under the law...as granted to married spouses." (California Family Code, Section 297-297.5)

But gays don't want all the rights and protections they claim to want; they've already got them. They want the word marriage specifically in order to erase any differences between the sexes, for the purpose of changing morals--so that their sexual act is just as respectable, lofty and important to society as the sexuality of heterosexuals who, theoretically at least, may create the next generation.

I'm not a homophobe. I have gay close relatives and gay friends, and I hope they enjoy their lives with whomever they please. But to suggest that the consequences of their sex act, and even their permanent human commitment, is as valuable and important to society as the combining of opposites--i.e. that society has an equal stake in recognizing or setting aside their union--is a denial of reality. The joining of male and female is different than the joining of two males or two females, and I personally believe the effort to shrug off and eliminate noting that is insane.

Professor Cruz, California citizens who voted for Proposition 8 seek no "targeted wiping out of a specific group's rights." The rights of gays to form permanent unions, simply called "domestic partnerships" in recognition of obvious differences between genders, stands. Nobody's rights for all the benefits and obligations of marriage change one bit. Well, perhaps those who want to use the word the way it's been used for thousands of years--our rights are under assault.

Marriage has a definition that recognizes undeniable sex differences. That's the issue. It's not some evil plot to remove "rights."

What is "Service?" New Obama Programs Distort the Concept

I'm spending spare moments pulling out yellowed envelopes of snapshots, seeking more newly-precious glimpses of my father-in-law to scan into my computer to share with our family. From divergent points on the globe, we weep privately and together over the loss of our role model of exuberant joy in life.

It's ironic that we're now made so sad by the loss of one who so vibrantly personified happiness.

It was in this context that I found myself actually irate reading a New York Times piece on Obama's tripling of AmeriCorps, to the tune of $6 billion over five years. Hailed as an altruistic opportunity in the tradition of JFK's 1965 "Vista" (Volunteers in Service to America, which was in imitation of Peace Corps), The Times fairly sings that the expansion "would establish Mr. Obama as the boldest proponent of service programs since Kennedy exhorted Americans to 'ask what you can do for your country.'"

Apparently even 70 Republican congressmen bought the hype--along with 251 Democrats, of course. One hundred four of the GOP voted nay, joined by one courageous Democrat.

But is this really service, or just another government make-work ploy? "Volunteers" get a living allowance, health care "and other benefits" says the Vista website. And after the year of service, there's a bonus of your choice of $4,725 for education (which will jump to $5,350 with the Obama bill) or, currently, $1,200 in cash (not sure what the higher cash reward will be with the additional funding). The stated goal is "to fight poverty," but "VISTA members generally do not provide direct services, such as tutoring children or building homes. Instead, they focus their efforts on building the organizational, administrative, and financial capacity of organizations..."

Vista is one of three existing AmeriCorps programs, the others being AmeriCorps State and National and AmeriCorps National Civilian Community Corps. The Obama plan, however, creates several additional government entities taxpayers will be funding, which include "new service programs focused on education, health care and clean energy." If the participants get living allowances, health care, child care and other perks, why is their involvement "service" any more than those employed by those same programs? Is it called "service" if you're paid by the government, and "work" if you're paid by anyone else? Perhaps it's the fact that the length of commitment is only twelve months, whereas employees' prospects are long-term? Tell that to the many people whose "permanent" jobs--surprise!--got axed due to the economic malaise.

I can imagine many folk who were laid off jumping at the chance for a secure income and health insurance for a year.

This all relates to my father-in-law, mourned by a wide circle of family, friends and admirers. He was a brilliant physicist, whose inventions in fiber optics and many other scientific fields helped push our nation into the high-tech age. By creating a company to execute, manufacture and distribute his innovations, he employed hundreds--probably thousands--of people. He toiled day and night, immersing himself in problem-solving and the hands-on development of products that changed the nature of communications internationally.

How is this kind of creativity and entrepreneurial accomplishment any less "service" than the administrative work in non-profit organizations of Vista "volunteers"? The difference was, he put all his own personal financial worth on the line to make it happen. And along the way, he experienced complete loss, only to build it back, undeterred. He took the risks personally, spurred by his enthusiasm for science and the need of his genius for expression. He had no guaranteed living allowance, no taxpayer-funded health care, no education bonus or cash option after a year of his total devotion.

But he, and other entrepreneurs who succeed, are now the bad guys, demonized. If they were able to parlay their efforts and investments into something that actually grew a lot--and they were able to grow into a large company and create tens of thousands or more jobs, well, they're now a "rich corporation" who must pay a far higher percentage of their earnings in order to "spread the wealth." Not that they spread it by hiring more people and investing in new ideas.

The way I see it, real "service" is provided by those who sacrifice and assume risks. That's why those in the military, who not only forego their careers and leave their families to submit to orders, often risking their very lives, truly serve.

I don't want to disparage the many people who choose careers in which they help others--to the contrary. But it frosts me to put our nation in subterranean debt to fund programs that falsely praise and honor what are in actuality one-year hires--when millions of people by their hard work (and often, similarly low pay) perform equally valuable "service." I'm not surprised the new Obama bill is called the GIVE Act, because we taxpayers certainly must.

It so happened that in the end, Zayde did not have the financial fruits of his labors. And were it up to Obama, if Zayde had been able to own a nice house, and it had perhaps even appreciated, the government's greedy hand would have forced its sale for death taxes--the only "bonus" for Zayde's commitment being his already-taxed savings confiscated to fund "service" programs--for participants lauded for selflessly fighting poverty.

Now that's ironic.

Alive in a Snapshot World

I've been gratefully receiving much positive feedback about the eulogy I wrote for my father-in-law, David (below). With my husband sitting shiva in Jerusalem, and days filled with phone calls of condolence, I find the rest of my life eerily on hold. Everywhere I look, Zayde is there, as he always was. You see, as a compulsive photographer, insistent (to my children's chagrin) on documenting as much of our precious life as I can, I have hundreds of photos of him among the 33,000 digital photos on my computer and at least that many taken with my film SLR before I went digital.

Before digital (for me, January, 2004), I'd print doubles of my photos and put many of them up on a bulletin board over my desk, inside my clothes closet--even in the medicine chest. This is a bone of contention with my husband, as he thinks them supreme clutter. To me, they are moments of life that I relive with every glance. Since the clever invention of slideshow screensavers, I sometimes waste time with the arrow buttons speeding up the slide show (or dwelling on photos I want to savor longer), jumping from one year, one festivity, one poignant heart-tug of my life to the next. Because I was there for every one of them, each photo is a literal time snapshot that instantly recalls an entire scene and envelops me with the emotions of that moment.

A couple years ago, I got new kitchen countertops, a combination of butterscotch travertine and a display tray about a half-inch deep topped with glass. My latest exhibit is a collection of photos, many in colorful frames, interspersed with sparkling trinkets. I enjoy it every day, though I did hear my husband mutter with disdain just a week or two ago that I've expanded my clutter even into our shared kitchen world.

But it is partially because of my photos that I'm having trouble accepting that Zayde is gone. There he is in my kitchen, in the same places he's been, hugging my daughter, hiking a verdant path with us, posing with the family at my son's bar mitzvah gathering in our back yard. I'm looking at him now, smiling down from my bulletin board with the rest of us, with a mountain peak and fir forest behind. There he is to my right, surrounded by his sons and grandkids, poised near a Colorado lake.

I lost my own parents four and six years ago. They are still real to me, grinning from walls and from my kitchen counter and in countertop frames. That they remain so clear; that my dad's voice I still hear in my mind, grants me some ease with the passing of Zayde, because he, too, can remain with me in his snapshot existence.