Episodes of my podcast series: 99 - a Weekly 9-Minute Spiritual Journey
Closeup of old decorative skeleton key tied to a heart wiht ribbon and all lying on green moss
99

The key to ecstasy

This entry is part 31 of 33 in the series 99: a journey

How do you know when you are at the end of something? Have you ever been to a “going away” party? Do you know how there’s that sadness initially because something is ending? A person is leaving the company, or moving away somewhere else? It feels to me kind of like a closing up. A book where the last page has just been read. Sometimes at those moments, though, my mind wanders and I think for a minute that it’s also kind of exciting. Because the person is about to begin something new. What if the new thing is about to be the best experience of that person’s life? What if they’re about to meet the person they’re going to spend their life with? This episode, we’re exploring the divine name, Ya-Fattah. In the book, Physicians of the Heart, the authors say that Fattah means to open something with something else. Like a key. They say that even in the midst of despair, with this key, we can awaken to love and ecstasy. What’s that about? Love and ecstasy? I gotta admit that those aren’t words I use very often… and in the midst of despair? Come on. But what if that really is what it’s all about? Being able to expand ourselves – to stretch our own beings enough to be able to hold those two extremes at the same time. Love – even the ecstasy kind of love, right their with despair. At.The.Same.Time. As Barack Obama used to say: Come on now. As part of my seminary training, I served as a chaplain in a local hospital. Some days were quiet and sweet, but other days I saw things that I will never be able to un-see. People in their most despairing states. As the chaplain you’re right there with the first responders when someone comes into the trauma center. In fact, sometimes the chaplain is the last responder. When there’s nothing else to be done, and life or death are not in human hands anymore. I remember taking all that emotion and grief and despair on myself. Even though it wasn’t my own emotion, it didn’t matter. Emergency workers talk about the sponge effect. Just by being in a traumatic environment, you soak it up like a sponge soaks up water. On the evening of one particular horrific day of greeting a stream of life-flight helicopters arriving  non-stop and accompanying families who were  living through the worst days they’ll ever have, I was exhausted and heading home. I got in the elevator with a young man and woman. The woman was in a wheelchair with a new baby. As I smiled at the glowing pair, they lit up and I learned that this newborn, who had been very sick, was finally getting to go home to a bright future. I managed to hold back the tears until I got outside into the fading light of dusk, and then it all came flowing. The sponge was being wrung out. All the grief and fear and upset was in there, and the joy and hope and beauty of new life was in there too. Is that Al Fattah? Or is Al-Fattah  the key to my being able to hold — not either/or, but both/and? Not to have to choose between joy or grief, but to grow and stretch ourselves to be vast enough and strong enough to hold both. Despair and beauty. Sorrow and gratitude. Pain and laughter. You know it’s a 30 minute walk home from the hospital and I cried the whole way that night. And I also laughed and smiled. When I got home, she asked, “so how was your day?” “Fine.” “Mmmhmmm. Big day, huh?” I think she [my beloved] knew. I think you do too. Carl Sagan used to say that you are made of star stuff. Our bodies contain every element that has been here since the beginning of time. We are also made of stories and emotions and something deeper and more vast than any word could ever describe. I hope you’ll remember this vastness when you need it. Next time you’re feeling lost or without hope, look around you for the joy. Next time life is easy and sweet and good, also look around you because there maybe someone who needs a hand. That’s how we can get along — by reminding each other. Until next time, Series Navigation<< WTF?He Made Me Do it! >>

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little girl hiding in woman's white skirt holding a stuffed animal
99

He Made Me Do it!

This entry is part 32 of 33 in the series 99: a journey

I’m a minister and – One of the things I hate most about religions is how they get used to justify hurtful actions and words. An example: “Why did this bad thing happen to me?” or “why is this innocent person suffering so much?” You might hear “oh they didn’t lead a good enough life – or they’re being punished for this or that.” I think that’s just plain wrongheaded. Even more, I think it’s a lazy or cowardly way to hide from the difficult truths that find us – all of us – at one time or another as human beings. If I am a hypocrite, it’s easy for me to find a passage of scripture or a bit of ancient wisdom to take – probably out of context – and explain why someone else just isn’t deserving – or good enough. I have yet to find someone who does this to themselves though. This episode, we’re working with the divine name Al Darr. This one is challenging and interesting to me because it is evidently the only one of the 99 names that produces failure or brings out harmful behavior. Think of the thing you are most ashamed of or embarrassed by. (This is a safe place – it’s only me and you – and I’m not going to judge you or tell anyone). Take a minute to call forth the lowest of your lows if you feel able. Got it? I just did mine and I’m pretty sure it’s worse than yours. This is kind of hard, but I know you’re with me, so we’ll do this together, OK? If you believe there is a god or a divine source of all — and if you believe as I do that this source is synonymous with Love (capital L) you might get stuck here. If God is Love (capital L) —  and if I come from God, — and if I do something evil or unforgivable… does that mean that some part of God is evil? Does God create everything? Even hate? I’ve done some things that I cannot forgive myself for. Some things that I regret. I felt overwhelmed by something dark and shameful and powerful, and several times, I have thought things or done things or avoided doing things. Each time, I did harm. I left this world worse through my actions. I think that THIS is Ya Darr. I knew better, but I didn’t do better. Is this what it means to be human? Some Christians and Jews call this original sin – the notion that we are all flawed and only by following the right recipe – either believing a certain thing – or by doing a certain thing – can we overcome this weakness. I do not believe in this original sin. Of course, by not believing in it, I make things harder on myself. I choose not to hide behind scripture like a little child hiding behind mother’s skirt for safety when my misdeeds are discovered. I choose not to point at someone or something else and say “he made me do it!” or “I couldn’t help it… I’m just a bad person”. I believe that we are called not to hide from or distance ourselves from the painful legacies we leave when we mess up. Rather, Love (with a capital L) calls us to step out from behind protection of our scripture and our shallow, easy understanding of God or of human nature, and come back into the light of relationship with each other. Maybe everything is sacred. Perhaps we humans, supposedly atoms of cosmic dust brought together from the Universe, and made in the image of the Divine, really ARE pieces of God. Perhaps there is only you and there is only me and there is only God and it is all the same thing. If that is so, then it must all be sacred – even the scary bits. You did that thing I asked you to remember just a minute ago. You did that – and yet you are still worthy of love. You caused harm and now you are called to do better. The same is true for me. I ask you to remember this the next time the darkness comes. I think *that* is what it means to be human. Not to deny the darkness or the light in us, but to learn to hold both in reverence and care so we don’t get pulled too far one way or the other. Perhaps in a sort of dance. Dear one, I hope you’ll join me in admitting your humanness. I hope you’ll join me in striving to embracing it – because it is all sacred and YOU are all sacred, and so it goes. If you like this podcast, please support it by sharing and becoming a patron. Sign up at patreon.com/prolificate for five or twenty dollars a month. Also, I love to hear from you – if or how the show helps, ideas, and questions are all welcome. Links to get in touch are in the show notes in your podcast app or here at prolificate.com/contact. Series Navigation<< The key to ecstasyWhy You Should (Sometimes) Welcome Dying >>

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Image of a small girl sleeping on a dirt path with a large dog watching over her. Girl has a lantern as if she is on a journey.
99

WTF?

This entry is part 30 of 33 in the series 99: a journey

When I was little, I remember wanting more than anything, the protection of my mother’s lap. If life seemed scary, or out of control, or I knew that my little 7 year-old self had gotten in over his head, mom represented safety and care and love. If I’m honest, I still crave that safety sometimes. Though I’m lucky I can still travel acrosst the country and see Mom, (and she would probably even welcome me into her lap), that isn’t always an option. This episode of 99 is about the name Ar Raqib – which translates loosely as “The Watchful One.”  Watchful in the way a mother watches over her children while they sleep. Think about that for a moment…. A Mother or Father or maybe even a loyal pet – lovingly watching over you while you sleep. Let’s do a visualization. You’re on a journey – a long, difficult one. You’re out in the wilderness trekking in search of your life’s purpose. You’ve left the familiar comfort of your home, after dark, and started walking. You are now far enough away that when you look back, you can no longer see the light from your front window. All around you is darkness. There are strange sounds, and strange smells, and it seems like danger is lurking in the shadows all around you. You’ve walked so far now that you are getting tired. You need rest, but are hesitant to stop. You fear that if you close your eyes, whatever is lurking in the darkness will come out to find you. But then you remember, your faithful dog Wilson. You can’t imagine a more gentle creature than Wilson, who adores you, but at 150lbs and standing taller than your waist, you feel completely safe with him around. You spot a natural  shelter formed by low-hanging pine branches over a little depression in the ground. A soft carpet of pine needles welcomes you as you sit, and then lie down to rest for a bit. The last thing you remember seeing through your fluttering eyelids is Wilson, curled up on the lip of the sheltered spot. He is resting easily next to you, and you drift off to sleep knowing that he is the Watchful One. Not all journeys are literal ones. In your life, you have probably faced terrors and worries all your own. Here’s the thing. Your guardian is always with you. The love of your Wilson the dog, or of your parent, or beloved isn’t limited to only them. If your parents are no longer around – or if you never had parents who filled that kind of role, you are not cut off from that kind of love and affection. We each carry that kind of love with us. It’s part of the package that comes with being born like you were.  Want to know how you know it’s there? You just have to know how to listen for it. I like to use a strategy taught to me by Lena Gardner, Director of Black Lives of Unitarian Universalism. Lena sometimes works with audiences of  white people who want to confront their own internalized feelings of racism. I bet you can imagine that feelings come up during this work  – powerful feelings and emotions and reactions. Lena offered a tool at one such workshop I attended. She said that when I’m caught off guard by some powerful feeling I was having was to simply ask, “WTF? The question: WTF? = Wasn’t That Fascinating!? Developing this practice can help us re-flect before we re-act.  It can help reset the tone of a conversation. We can take advantage of a brief opportunity to short-circuit old habits and patterns – and to make mindful choices based on our values, rather than emotionally-driven responses to life’s challenges. WTF? The next time you feel yourself getting angry, or frightened, or overwhelmed. Try it. Wow… Someone said some words, and I felt rage just now. Or Shame or Guilt…. Wasn’t That Fascinating… I wonder why I’m experiencing that? If you listen, you might hear a still, small voice from inside that is your guardian – your watcher. The voice of your guide telling you that you’re safe, and that you need to go deeper into this particular darkness. That it’s time to explore, to shift your perspective to a new view. Your inner watchful one is there and wants what is best for you. Are you ready to start paying attention? That watchful love – that mother’s love, or guardian’s love is a tough love. It gives endlessly, and it also pushes you to move beyond the limits you thought you had. Notice it, my friend. Learn to listen for the voice of this inner love. Rest in its protection, and trust in its guidance. If you like this podcast, please support it by sharing and becoming a patron. Sign up at patreon.com/prolificate for five or twenty dollars a month. Also, I love to hear from you – if or how the show helps, ideas, and questions are all welcome. Links to get in touch are in the show notes in your podcast app or at prolificate.com. Series Navigation<< How to Never Run Out of LoveThe key to ecstasy >>

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An exploding planet viewed from space. Planet has light showing out between the cracked pieces that are coming apart.
99

Why You Should (Sometimes) Welcome Dying

This entry is part 33 of 33 in the series 99: a journey

Welcome to 99 – brought to you by Prolificate.com, where I offer interfaith inspiration, mentoring, and support. I’m your host Andrew Chirch – Interfaith minister and spiritual coach for real people like you. The idea for 99 comes from the Islamic teaching that there are 99 names for the divine, and each one has its own meaning. Each week, we meet up for 9-minutes to explore teachings from ALL the world’s religions to help us make sense of our lives. One of the things I’ve been learning lately is how to be a chaplain. If you’re not familiar with what a chaplain does, it’s a helping role. You’re there—usually employed by an institution—to provide spiritual care for folks. My chaplain training happened in a hospital – a big trauma center.  I got to be with a lot of people who were either actively dying, or at least having one of the worst days of their life. … and so I learned some things — about myself— and about what people really want most at the end of their lives.  This episode, we’re talking about the divine name, Ya Mumit which means literally “the one who brings death.” Now before you click skip on the audio recording, or head over to Netflix because death is off limits, I want you to know that I’m a happy guy. I’m actually full of joy right now as I share this. And part of that reason is because of what I learned in that hospital. Now, in the Islamic Sufi tradition, there are lots of matched pairs of words. Things like creator and sustainer, bringer of joy and bringer of sorrow, expansion and contraction… that sort of thing. This is no different. Al Mumit is the one who brings death, and it’s part of a matched set with Al Muhyi – the one who brings life. Before I go any further, I want to share this lovely tradition I learned about recently—some hospitals play a little snippet of Brahm’s lullaby over the intercom system every time a baby is born, no matter what else is happening at the time. When I heard about this tradition, my mind was blown. Hospitals can be hard places – for patients, for loved ones, and also for staff. I imagine a nurse, exhausted from being yelled at and overworked. She’s just had a patient die – someone who she really liked and had looked forward to seeing every day. It’s the end of her shift and someone else is pressing their call button for the hundredth time that day, when over the intercom comes the sound – “Lull-a-bye, and good-night, dah dah dee-dah, da dah da..” A reminder that amid all the bad news, there is *also* new life, new hope, and new wonder coming into this world. I imagine her taking a deep breath, wrapping her arms tightly around her chest, and finding some strength to head back in to see what her patient needs.  Beginnings and endings. They go together. Why do we like one more than the other? One of my favorite Hindu deities is Kali. Her name means “Time” and she is the great destroyer. Look up a picture of Kali—she looks really scary at first. Midnight blue in color, holding a severed head and wearing a skirt made out of severed demon arms! But here’s the funny thing… in the Hindu culture as I know it, Kali isn’t really considered evil. In fact, Kali is revered and worshipped because of what she makes possible. She does the things for us that we’re too afraid to do on our own.  I think of her as kind of a living paper shredder. Anything I’m ready to give up and leave behind goes to Kali. She is fierce and fearless… unafraid to give herself fully to the task at hand. I know that you’re probably not a big fan of dying. If that’s true, it’s certainly understandable. This week’s divine name, though, Al-Mumit, is an invitation to think about it in a different way. In our lives, we are constantly being born and also dying – constantly. The living cells that make up our bodies are constantly dying and being replaced by new ones. Old habits, old loves, old fears… they have a way of dying away and making space for new loves, new jobs, new hopes, no? Think of the favorite thing about your life right now. Got it? Now think of all the other things that had to go away so that your favorite thing could come into your life. Think of the hardest thing you’ve ever experienced. Got it? Now your assignment this week, should you choose to accept it is to play connect the dots…. between that hardest or worst thing that ever happened to you, and something good in your life today. I look forward to hearing about your journey! Seriously, drop me a line and tell me how you connected the dots and if you learned anything through that exercise. See you soon. Until then, I’ll be dancing with Kali. If you like this podcast, please support it by sharing and becoming a patron. Sign up at patreon.com/prolificate for five or twenty dollars a month. Also, I love to hear from you – if or how the show helps, ideas, and questions are all welcome. Links to get in touch are in the show notes in your podcast app or at prolificate.com. Series Navigation<< He Made Me Do it!

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Recent Episodes of my Podcast. Interviews, random musings.
Head and shoulders photo of a smiling Ann Marie seated on a beige sofa against a calm, clean neutral-colored background Photo is taken from slightly above.
Podcast
Andrew

Raising Sparks: An Interview with Ann Marie Coletta

Welcome to another special Interview Episode of Prolificate where we get to hear from Ann Marie Coletta, the fierce and authentic founder of Raising Sparks Interfaith Ministry in one of San Francisco’s toughest neighborhoods, The Tenderloin. Ann Marie is one of the most moving interviews I’ve done, and for good reason. She has a way of sharing her experiences – which are incredible and can be a little scary – with a gentleness and care that’s unlike anyone you’ll ever meet. She has been there, and done that for over twenty years as an all-star social worker, practicing Zen Buddhist, and a recovering alcoholic who tells it like it is. I hope you appreciate this as much as I did. Enjoy. If you want to connect with Raising Sparks, you can find their website (coming soon at the time I’m writing this) at https://raisingsparksinthestreets.com/. Their phone number is (415) 933-5955 or email raisingsparksinthestreets@gmail.com Blessings to you for listening and caring. Blessings to Ann Marie and those she is walking with. Don’t forget, that a prolific world includes each and every one of us. May we both be encouraged by this story. Go out into the world in peace and have courage Hold on to what is good Return to no person evil for evil. Strengthen the fainthearted, Support the weak. Help the suffering, and honor all beings. Including you.

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Notes from the Field: Elation and Disappointment

I keep making these recordings as I leave the hospital to capture what I’ve experienced. While I cannot share any identifying details to protect patient confidentiality, it feels important to remember these experiences. Today, I realize that I have a favorite patient – even though you’re not supposed to. The reality of the situation felt really raw, so of course, I had to record it. Turns out Chaplains are people too. 🙂

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a little yellow flower growing from cracked, dried up mud
Podcast
Andrew

Ashes, Dust, Tears, and Laughter

This is a short update after a really intense week. I have been serving as a chaplain at a local hospital, and the experience has been so intense, I just had to share what it’s like. (Don’t worry, it isn’t all sad, but it IS powerful). Some brief notes from the podcast episode: Ash Wednesday – “According to Rabbi Bunim of P’shiskha, everyone should have two pockets, each containing a slip of paper. On one should be written: I am but dust and ashes, and on the other: The world was created for me. From time to time we must reach into one pocket, or the other. The secret of living comes from knowing when to reach into each. The quandary of interfaith chaplaincy to a variety of people Dispensing wisdom vs serving             Rachel Naomi Remen’s article: Healing vs Fixing vs Serving How to pray – when that’s something that’s been hard for me to do in the past.             Ironically, it hasn’t been that hard with patients.

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unlearning everyday racism
Podcast
Andrew

Unlearning Everyday Racism

I recently spoke with Kalissa Scopes of Unlearning Everyday Racism. This was, at times, an emotional interview (for me). Not to spoil this, but toward the end of our conversation I ask Kalissa what she’s most afraid of. What she answered was profoundly moving.

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Blog Posts and other special features

On the way. Wednesday, May 15th. Miami Airport.

https://www.listeningtoayahuasca.com It’s Wednesday, May 15th, 2024. I’m sitting in the Miami airport and am halfway through my 3-day “planes, (no) trains, and automobiles” journey to Gaia Sagrada retreat center outside Cuenca, Ecuador. 

When I get there, on Friday, I’ll have a day to settle in before we get started with the 12-day retreat. 

Because I’ve heard so much about this plant medicine and its intensity, I’ve been trying to prepare myself by reading about other people’s experiences. I’ve also been doing my best to heed their advice and tips.

Like many things, I’m probably overdoing the buildup for this experience, but I suppose it’s one way I deal with the unknown: There’s a part of me (named Atlas) whose job it is to try and anticipate all the things that might happen and to be uber-prepared for any of them. Atlas honest-to-God packed a Phillips screwdriver for this trip to the Andes. (It makes perfect sense once you think about it). At any rate, Rachel Harris’ book is so far an interesting compilation of her personal experiences as well as those of her patients over many years of studying the kinds of healing, recovery, and psycho-spiritual breakthroughs that are possible. Maybe give it a read or listen. I’ll be staying the night in Quito before catching another flight to Cuenca – a smaller colonial town of ~ 600,000 people up in the mountains. Ciao.

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An Update

Thank you for your support. Really.  Since my son Dillon’s series of seizures on April 17th, and his few days in hospital, he has been steadily recovering. In some ways, and to someone who has never met him, he appears completely normal.  He tells another story though. Although each day is a little better than the one before, and he hasn’t had any more seizures, his brain is still not what it was… agile, responsive, and capable.  He is back to working a light/limited schedule helping his boss with the administrative bits of running several restaurants.  He seems to have received this as a wake up call and reminder that life is short, precious, and unpredictable, and to make damned sure he’s living in a way that matters to him.  I’m grateful he’s okay, and your prayers and kindness continue to be needed and appreciated. As the initial crisis phase of this whole thing tapers off, I’m increasingly aware that I have work to do with my own spirit. At this point in my life (like many folks), I’ve been through things that have buckled my knees and bent my spirit into the funny and unique thing that it is today. Yes, I’ve been resilient and blessed in many ways. And. This feels like a section break in my life’s story… that blank page in between where it’s a good time for a drink refill and a bathroom break. Although I’ve done a fair bit of self-work (I have an impressively thick stack of therapy receipts at this point), the truth is that it’s time for me to take a step forward in examining my fears and the collage of scars and duct tape that has carried me through two divorces, the loss of my kids’ mom to suicide, and a few other loop-the-loops and barrel rolls along the way.  I’m aware of the fleetingness of life…. that my life (or anyone’s) could end at any point (mine hopefully in such outrageous fashion that folks at my memorial will be straining to hold back laughter….. taken out by a falling blue chunk of ice from an airplane toilet anyone?).  Gallows humor aside, I also want to be prepared so that if I happen to live for another few decades, I’m not causing nightmares to those around me because I’m such a suppressed mess!  Since leaving my most recent job at The Chaplaincy Institute, I’ve been taking time to rest, meditate, exercise, attend some art therapy sessions, generally turn inward, and tend to what I find there. As I do this, I’m finding myriad more questions. To that end, I’ve decided to do some solo travel to South America starting about a week from now. I’ll first be heading to Ecuador for a retreat with ayahuasca and San Pedro plant medicine healers to help in the process of self discovery.  Who knows what the future holds, but if I have one bit of advice, it is this:  Do the thing you are here in this life to do. Ask the questions you’ve been afraid to ask. Give the hugs that would be awkward but you’d love to give. Say the things out loud that you haven’t had the time or courage to say. Hold yourself (and me) accountable to living a life of meaning – whatever that might look like to you.  If you’re reading this, you’ve had a part to play in my story. You may not know that it’s an important part, but it is. I appreciate you. I listen and learn from you. I value your time and friendship, and I look forward to the next time our paths cross.  Until then, thank you for caring, following along when the plot gets weird, and showing up for me. May you experience how good that support feels. A thousand times over. In gratitude.  AC

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Various faces in a crowd
Blog
Andy

Immigration: gender matters.

This entry is part 5 of 5 in the series Immigration

Immigration Series: Part V For this final installment, I want to look at gender and how it interplays with immigration. Perhaps it would be helpful to clarify the baseline definition of gender. The following is adapted from the Apple dictionary entry: Gender: “either of the two sexes (male and female), especially when considered with reference to social and cultural differences rather than biological ones. The term is also used more broadly to denote a range of identities that do not correspond to established ideas of male and female:” Although the words gender and sex are often used interchangeably, they have slightly different connotations; sex tends to refer to biological differences, while gender more often refers to cultural and social differences and sometimes encompasses a broader range of identities than the binary of male and female. “What does gender have to do with someone moving from one country or culture to another,” you ask? Let’s take a look, shall we? The first thing that comes to mind is that in many cultures that are heterosexual and patriarchal, there are clearly-defined roles for men and women. Around the world, the poorer and more strongly patriarchal the society is, the (disproportionately) worse women fare in terms of health. Often, women are expected to take care of the rest of the family by cooking, cleaning, and meeting household needs like gathering wood or fuel for cooking and cleaning in addition to then leaving for a long day of working outside the family for money. Those women then return after long days only to have to prepare meals and wash clothing for the family members to prepare for the next day. It’s not hard to imagine why a woman would want to emigrate– to leave a situation like this for better opportunities, and many do. On the immigration side, gender roles influence the way that people are perceived in the host society. If the receiving society is heavily patriarchal, then immigration of women may be viewed with less suspicion or resistance. Women often move into roles like domestic service, sex or entertainment work, and in general, may move more freely within the culture. This may lend the immigrant population a less permanent nature as the women retain ties to their home culture by remittances (sending part of their earnings back home) and continued travel / migration back and forth. When populations of men migrate, the character of the immigration is different. Men may be less likely to migrate alone and then to bring their families with them. This creates a more rooted immigrant community within the receiving culture, which may be perceived as more disruptive. In the case of family migration, women often serve as connectors within the new community which acts as a kind of glue. Bringing the family unit along from one culture to another allows for continued social and cultural events, religious observance, and a continued sense of identity, which is often fostered by women. Lastly, gender plays an interesting role when migration happens between cultures with different notions of gender. When the receiving society is less patriarchal, people who were forced to adhere to a strict binary of male/female in the old culture may feel free to “come out” in the new one. People who are non-binary, gender-fluid, or trans-gender may find themselves able for the first time to claim an identity that previously had to be suppressed or hidden. Conversely, migrating from a more liberal society to a more conservative one may force people to hide parts of their identities to conform to more rigid expectations around gender. While this might seem like a curiosity on the surface, it can be a life-threatening reality for many when examined more deeply. Again, stories can be apparent and operate as obvious public narratives. For many of us, stopping at this level of understanding is all we feel necessary. When something doesn’t make sense, however, it is often by looking beneath the surface for the hidden narrative that we can find answers (or at least more helpful questions). How do you experience immigrants? Are they immigrants or are they people who migrate? How does the story of your life intersect with the story of theirs? What would it take to make you leave your country, culture and relationships behind to move to a new country? Would you have the courage to do it? Would you take your religion or your food or your music with you or would you try to assimilate to the new place? We haven’t covered politics or the arbitrary idea of nation-states as ways to divide the world, but those ideas are just as complicated, with surface stories and hidden stories of their own. Any way you examine the issue, it appears that human beings have certain needs that must be met. It is in the ways we meet those needs that we differentiate ourselves. I have found this look at immigration helpful, and I hope you have too. May we both be reminded that humans have far more in common than the things that make us different. May we be curious and ask the question “Why?”more often instead of simply accepting the narrative that our own cultures provide us. May we ask ourselves,“What would I do?” when we are puzzled or frustrated with someone different than we are. I leave you with a quote from the Sufi, Hazrat Inayat Khan: “I wandered in the pursuit of my own self; I was the traveler, and I am the destination.” Whether traveler, expatriate, immigrant, or emigrant, may we each remember that we are all searching for something. Be curious. Series Navigation<< Why do Immigrants bring their religion with them?

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Wheel of religious symbols
Blog
Andy

Why do Immigrants bring their religion with them?

This entry is part 4 of 5 in the series Immigration

Immigration Series: Part IV Immigrants are sometimes recognizable in a host society by the ways they act differently. One of the more recognizable ways of acting can be motivated by religion. I am thinking of a taxi driver I once saw stop his car, retrieve a prayer rug from the trunk, and perform salat – ritual prayer done 5 times each day by observant Muslims. Because I live in a Christian culture, this immediately triggered a story for me about who this person was and how they came to be on their knees in a gas station parking lot. This brings up a question right away: Why doesn’t the person just assimilate to the new host culture? Move to the United States (in this case), learn English, become Christian, and learn to love hot dogs, action movies, and pizza like other Americans. But wait: Pizza is Italian, though, right? Never mind pesky questions that blur the lines of my tidy narrative. We’re talking about religion. One of the ways I try to understand issues like this one – why people who immigrate don’t just assimilate – is to imagine myself in their situation. If I were Christian and my religion gave me great comfort, I would probably feel a great deal of gratitude or loyalty to it. If circumstances then changed in my own country and became bad enough that I had no other choice but to leave, it makes sense that I would take my religion with me, no? After all, my faith might be the one thing that carried me this far and gave me the strength to consider leaving my home in search of something better. Why would I abandon the very God who allowed me to survive and make this change? Although the religions might be different depending on the context, immigrants move all over the world: from Turkey to Germany, from South America to Asia, from India to Africa. It only makes sense that they would bring their religious practices with them. Imagine yourself in a strange new place where the language, the customs, and the culture are completely unfamiliar. Would you long for the comfort of the home you remember? Would you jump at the chance to create a sense of community – the familiar – among all the foreign? I would. This is why we find small, but vibrant Brazilian Catholic church communities in Japan, Korean Christian Churches in San Francisco, and Mosques in London. I have come to understand that religion is an inseparable part of culture, even for those who deny that religion. The Western calendar is calibrated off of Jesus’ birth. Our culture ebbs and flows in a yearly cycle marked by Christian festivals like Christmas and Easter (which were themselves overlaid on pre-Christian religious festivals). Our criminal courts have a jury of twelve, one representing each tribe of Israel, our Presidents place their hand on the Christian Bible to profess their adherence to its code as they are sworn into office. Religion, which means, “that to which we bind ourselves,” is yet another story with many levels. On the surface, it is often a system of beliefs and practices that one uses to be in relationship with God or some higher power. Like other cases, there is also a deeper, sometimes hidden story about not being alone.When all else fails, when everyone and everything I know has left or has changed, my religion binds me to the one thing that does not – and will not – change. Why not cast that off and assimilate to the religion of a new culture? Some do, of course, but I have to ask, “why would I?” Series Navigation<< Race & Ethnicity: our Favorite FairytalesImmigration: gender matters. >>

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