peace in silence

Blogging friend Gloria wonders what my subtle disquiet is about.

I find Gloria's (I assume Gloria is a she, if not, let me know) comment intriging, especially since I didn't know that I was disquiet.

Dictionary.com defines disquiet as the "absence of peace." I began thinking about my absence of peace, and a few things popped to mind. First, a quote:

You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars.
You have a right to be here.
And whether it is clear to you or not,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive him to be,
and whatever your labours and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham and drudgery and broken dreams
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

From "Desiderata" by Max Ehrman, 1927.

First off, I conceive God to be not exclusively male, so I'd prefer the poem said "Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive God to be..." I know, the language is a bit awkward, but it's my latest kick in life, so humor me.

I find it odd that we Christians usually refer to God as a male. (Here comes the disquiet, Gloria). I'm a Christian. My holy book is the Bible. I know the Bible refers to God as a male (even in the original languages). However, I'm one of those crazy Christians who attempts to understand the bible with at least a small bit of honest objective criticism. Should it surprise us that when men penned the words which are now collected in our present day "Bible," they choose a masculine pronoun to refer to the Deity?

In some ways, I wonder if our fascination with Mary the Mother of God is in some way a silent protest about the lack of a female presence in heaven. Aren't Mothers in some way always greater than their sons?

Think about it: we've got God the Father(a man), Jesus (a man), and the Spirit (probably another man). What about God the Mother, God the Daughter, and God the Holy Feeling? Everyone knows that if the world were left to men, we'd all be dead in a quick hurry. Wars happen because men aren't so good at talking. If the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit were left to their own devices, I'm betting they'd get into a big fight and all heaven would break loose. That's where Mary comes in. Thank God she ascended to heaven to sort things out. She's a woman, which means she's smarter than all of them, but lets them think otherwise. And by God, she'll keep the other three from engaging in frivilous violence.

My wife argues that God must be a man. How else does one explain the enormous propensity for violence in the Hebrew Bible? If God were a woman, the people of Israel wouldn't have ever killed anyone. They would have talked it out. This also happens to be her argument for why America went to war in Iraq. Two prideful men (our leader and theirs) were too stubburn and just sit down a work it out. Somehow, I disagree with her first point (although I find it quite humorous), but agree with the second.

As long as I'm on America's war mongering in Iraq, I wonder what Mr. Bush would say about these well worn verses of scripture: "Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth....Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God" (Matthew 5.5, 9). Maybe I just have the wrong manuscript. Surely what the bible really means is "blessed are those with the biggest army and the most wealth, for they will control the oil." (Opps...there's the subtle disquiet again)

I'm disquiet because I feel my religion is often used to manipulate. I'm disquiet because I think people take religion too seriously.

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote: "Religion is to do right. It is to love, it is to serve, it is to think, it is to be humble." I espicially like "it is to think." I've met too many people who think critically about everything in their life. Everything, that is, except their faith. And that bugs me. But religion is also to be humble. For me, this means acknowledging the possiblity that I'm wrong. Or at least I should be willing to listen to others, especially those who think differently. Which reminds of another bit from "Desiderata:"

Go placidly amid the noise and haste
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly and listen to others,
even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.