We knew about Challenge Alaska before moving here, and of course the famous (in certain circles) Midnight Sun Challenge for wheelchair racers and handcyclists. When we finally made time to drop by, we found that not only do they offer exciting programs, but they are also really, really nice people.
Right now they're offering a Wednesday night course covering the skills needed for winter camping. The final exam is a camp-out in early January.
Ski school is another option that will start as soon as there's enough snow.
For more info, follow the link.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Better-Than UUs?
There's a subtle danger when people try so hard to be good. That danger is pride, and its flip-side is judgement.
Some of this is probably projection, but not all, I think.
I drive into the parking lot at AUUF and have a hard time finding a place to park the Silverado among all the Subarus. Usually I wind up parking down the block, on the street. I often wonder to myself, "How many of these UUs judge me for what I drive?"
The thought that usually follows this question is a gleeful, "Wouldn't they feel awful about their self-righteousness if they knew why I drive a Silverado?" Pick-up trucks with extended cabs and so-called "suicide doors" are one of the few options for drivers who need to stow a wheelchair without assistance. It's a tension between principles one and seven. Principle one: "The inherent worth and dignity of every person." Principle seven: "Respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part."
In traditional theology, there is a continuum between divine grace and personal responsibilty. There are churches whose emphasis on human depravity and divine providence is so strong that church members lose all sense of personal empowerment and responsiblity. They give up all efforts to make this a better world, and in the worst case scenario, they give up all personal standards of behavior, choosing to "sin boldly."
On the other end of the scale are the UUs. From what I've read, and some comments I've heard at AUUF, it seems to me that sometimes UUs fall right off the personal responsibility end of the scale. They try so hard to make this a better world that they get burned-out and disillusioned when their efforts don't lead to results quickly enough. In their weariness they fall into bad habits of scorn and judgement of those who are not "trying hard enough."
And so I come around to the title of this post, and its double meaning. First meaning: sometimes UUs think they are better than everyone else. Second meaning: a warning to myself that my outsider's point of view runs the risk of becoming a judgemental critique in itself.
Principle three comes in handy here: "Acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations."
Some of this is probably projection, but not all, I think.
I drive into the parking lot at AUUF and have a hard time finding a place to park the Silverado among all the Subarus. Usually I wind up parking down the block, on the street. I often wonder to myself, "How many of these UUs judge me for what I drive?"
The thought that usually follows this question is a gleeful, "Wouldn't they feel awful about their self-righteousness if they knew why I drive a Silverado?" Pick-up trucks with extended cabs and so-called "suicide doors" are one of the few options for drivers who need to stow a wheelchair without assistance. It's a tension between principles one and seven. Principle one: "The inherent worth and dignity of every person." Principle seven: "Respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part."
In traditional theology, there is a continuum between divine grace and personal responsibilty. There are churches whose emphasis on human depravity and divine providence is so strong that church members lose all sense of personal empowerment and responsiblity. They give up all efforts to make this a better world, and in the worst case scenario, they give up all personal standards of behavior, choosing to "sin boldly."
On the other end of the scale are the UUs. From what I've read, and some comments I've heard at AUUF, it seems to me that sometimes UUs fall right off the personal responsibility end of the scale. They try so hard to make this a better world that they get burned-out and disillusioned when their efforts don't lead to results quickly enough. In their weariness they fall into bad habits of scorn and judgement of those who are not "trying hard enough."
And so I come around to the title of this post, and its double meaning. First meaning: sometimes UUs think they are better than everyone else. Second meaning: a warning to myself that my outsider's point of view runs the risk of becoming a judgemental critique in itself.
Principle three comes in handy here: "Acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations."
Monday, November 07, 2005
Science and Religion
Yesterday at AUUF the 9 a.m. Forum topic was "Science vs. Religion." This was my first time visiting "the early service," which is much less like church than the 10:45 version.
The speaker was Dr. Arndt Von Hippel, an author and retired thoracic surgeon. He was charmingly Alaskan--boots, double-knee Carharts, plaid shirt.
The format for Forum is that the speaker talks for a short time, and then there is an extended, moderated discussion (more people saying what they want to say than actually responding to each other).
The discussion was different from what I expected, but still quite thought-provoking.
I expected a conversation about the recent increase in popularity of so-called Intelligent Design. There was one question about that (the speaker's response was that he thinks our culture has "odometer events," and that Y2K led to fear, which led to a surge in religious fundamentalism).
Most of the conversation, instead, was mainly religion-bashing. Hence yesterday's post asking "What is religion?"
I found myself in a funny position. I expected to go to a pep rally for those fighting Intelligent Design, and instead found myself looking for the sign-up sheet for the Defenders of Religion.
I of all people know that there is such a thing as bad religion.
But that doesn't mean religion is worthless.
Yesterday was a bit of a mirror, in a way. There are a lot of people at AUUF (and in many UU fellowships) who are wounded refugees from restrictive, guilt-inducing churches of all stripes. I am one of them. And I never want to forget how bad it was to live within such a prison (those who fail to learn from history...). But I also don't want to be held captive by my own woundedness. I don't want to shoot down anything that has to do with mystery and wonder just because it looks and smells a little bit like that thing that hurt me.
I think that it's a rare person who can live by science alone. Science is a slow, excruciating process. We have learned a great deal from science, but we are still not anywhere near being finding answers to the questions our hearts ask. Why do we exist? What is this thing called consciousness? What happens when we die? What does life mean?
Science isn't enough. We need spiritual reflection (I won't call it theology), too.
One of the pearls of great price I retain from seminary is a quote from Sally McFague: "Metaphors are strategies of desperation."
Metaphors are the pixie dust we throw into the unknown, hoping it will cling to something, and tell us its shape.
Where religion gets in trouble is when metaphor becomes dogma. A metaphor is not meant to be Truth. It is meant to be an imagined possibility. In a way, not much different than a scientific hypothesis (but with prettier language).
Dr. Von Hippel spoke yesterday about the differences between the linguistic brain and the pre-linguistic brain. He said something like, "If rabbits took the time to say, 'Look, there's a wolf running toward me,' rabbits wouldn't last long." Instead, the pre-linguistic brain reacts before the rest of the brain puts words to what's happening.
This is not unlike the relationship between reason and intuition. Intuition leaps on ahead, scanning the big picture, forming possibilities. Reason brings up the rear, analyzing the information at hand, evaluating possibilities that emerge from the intuitive imagination.
Both science and religion need reason and intuition. And science and religion need each other. How can we facilitate converation between the two of them?
The speaker was Dr. Arndt Von Hippel, an author and retired thoracic surgeon. He was charmingly Alaskan--boots, double-knee Carharts, plaid shirt.
The format for Forum is that the speaker talks for a short time, and then there is an extended, moderated discussion (more people saying what they want to say than actually responding to each other).
The discussion was different from what I expected, but still quite thought-provoking.
I expected a conversation about the recent increase in popularity of so-called Intelligent Design. There was one question about that (the speaker's response was that he thinks our culture has "odometer events," and that Y2K led to fear, which led to a surge in religious fundamentalism).
Most of the conversation, instead, was mainly religion-bashing. Hence yesterday's post asking "What is religion?"
I found myself in a funny position. I expected to go to a pep rally for those fighting Intelligent Design, and instead found myself looking for the sign-up sheet for the Defenders of Religion.
I of all people know that there is such a thing as bad religion.
But that doesn't mean religion is worthless.
Yesterday was a bit of a mirror, in a way. There are a lot of people at AUUF (and in many UU fellowships) who are wounded refugees from restrictive, guilt-inducing churches of all stripes. I am one of them. And I never want to forget how bad it was to live within such a prison (those who fail to learn from history...). But I also don't want to be held captive by my own woundedness. I don't want to shoot down anything that has to do with mystery and wonder just because it looks and smells a little bit like that thing that hurt me.
I think that it's a rare person who can live by science alone. Science is a slow, excruciating process. We have learned a great deal from science, but we are still not anywhere near being finding answers to the questions our hearts ask. Why do we exist? What is this thing called consciousness? What happens when we die? What does life mean?
Science isn't enough. We need spiritual reflection (I won't call it theology), too.
One of the pearls of great price I retain from seminary is a quote from Sally McFague: "Metaphors are strategies of desperation."
Metaphors are the pixie dust we throw into the unknown, hoping it will cling to something, and tell us its shape.
Where religion gets in trouble is when metaphor becomes dogma. A metaphor is not meant to be Truth. It is meant to be an imagined possibility. In a way, not much different than a scientific hypothesis (but with prettier language).
Dr. Von Hippel spoke yesterday about the differences between the linguistic brain and the pre-linguistic brain. He said something like, "If rabbits took the time to say, 'Look, there's a wolf running toward me,' rabbits wouldn't last long." Instead, the pre-linguistic brain reacts before the rest of the brain puts words to what's happening.
This is not unlike the relationship between reason and intuition. Intuition leaps on ahead, scanning the big picture, forming possibilities. Reason brings up the rear, analyzing the information at hand, evaluating possibilities that emerge from the intuitive imagination.
Both science and religion need reason and intuition. And science and religion need each other. How can we facilitate converation between the two of them?
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