Post-Evangelical Easter Reflection

These are some of my reflections, as a post-Evangelical-possibly-heretical-possibly-not-Christian, about Easter. I wrote this in my journal in the sunshine today and, wanting it to have a home, I (pardon the pun) resurrected this blog. 

Reading time: 8 minutes

My Evangelically-Shaped Easter

I used to view Easter as a day (/weekend / week) to observe the historical moment in time where my inevitable, innumerable sins were paid for by a perfect God-man.  This gift, of God paying the price of my sins, was graciously offered to me and to everyone else in the entire world, past and present. (Or was it just present and future? I forget). Given that I’d already accepted God's gift of Eternal life--I did this as a young child, like most of the children in my church community--I knew I was saved from eternal damnation (aka hell. The eternal burn.)  

Because this was my worldview, Easter was, for the earliest years of my life,  both a joyous occasion to rejoice in my promised salvation but also a pressing reminder that many of my (unchurched) friends were still on the path to end up in hell when they died. (Because, you know…they hadn’t accepted the gift that Jesus offered them.)

I did what any loving evangelical convinced by this truth would do: I prayed fervently for God to work in their hearts so that they, too, might come to know the joy of eternal life in Christ. I prayed that they might one day be able to join me and the rest of the church congregation when we proclaimed “He is risen indeed!"

(NB: Some of you, reading my claim of wanting other friends to “know the joy” along my parallel statements about burning in hellfire might think I’m being facetious. But I promise: I am not. I really did feel such a deep joy on account of my Christian faith, and I longed for others I loved to feel it too. I have a lot of compassion for the version of myself who saw the world in this way; I know I felt a lot of love for others—in the way that I knew how to. So if you’re feeling like rolling your eyes or shaking your fists at any Christians you know who currently conceptualize life in these ways, I invite you to try to first remember that they are seeing the world in a different way than you are; and probably their hearts are filled to the brim with love for you—in the way that they know how. Anyway, I digress.)

 

So that was Easter for me. For about 20 years or so. A mix of joy and fear. Both feelings were immense. 

(Now, it’s worth noting that not all Christians interpret Easter in the way that I did. Easter was not (/is not) a reminder about salvation vs. damnation for the many Christians who do not believe in a literal hell from which our sinful selves need to be saved via a payment of a perfect being. I don’t know quite enough about other Christian modes of interpreting Easter to summarize them here, but I know they are plentiful and I don’t want to paint them all with the same brush. There are huge variations within the religion we call Christianity.

But this sin-ridden, hell-bound humans + loving, debt-paying Saviour was the Christianity that I grew up in and, thus, this was Easter for me. It was a striking reminder about eternity, and a time to rejoice that you’ve been saved while also fret for those who aren’t.)

Given that this particular mode of interpreting Easter was so dominant in my psyche for so many years, I am not altogether surprised that I eventually veered away from that view. I do, however, personally find it VERY strange and unexpected that, this year, I find myself acutely (re)drawn to celebrate Easter. But here I am. 

Post-Evangelical Explorations of Religion/Spirituality 

For those of you who do not know, I have spent the last decade or so exploring religious and spiritual views that extend far beyond the lens that the church I grew up in taught me to see the world through. In these last ~10 years, I have identified as an atheist, an agnostic, an ignostic, a Jew, a Buddhist, a Christian, a bhakt, “Spiritual But Not Religious”, “Religious But Not Spiritual”, and “Other” ….depending on who was asking me the question and how much time I had for my answer. 

A lot of my discomfort with identifying (solely) as a Christian now is due to the fact that the type of Christianity that I once (strongly and happily!) identified with is now very far from being a comfortable fit for me.  If I were to try to wear my earlier Christianity like a sweater, it would feel itchy, scratchy. It barely fits over my head. And yet... 

I love so many of the teachings of Christ. Indeed, I cannot help but think that if he looked me in the eyes and said “follow me” then I would pack my bag (—wait, I forget: am I allowed to take the time to pack a bag? It’s been awhile since I’ve read that biblical passage in Matthew…) and run after him. I would want to follow him, and be in his presence.  Sit at his feet; absorb his teachings. (At least for a little bit? Wouldn’t you? Who would not want to be in the presence of such a teacher!?!?!) So, given that I long to follow Christ... am I a Christian? Who gets to decide if I “count” as one? Does the fact that the Christianity I was born-and-raised with is no longer the Christianity I wish to embrace mean that I must forfeit the identity once and for all? 

I honestly do not know. *shrugs*

(One of the reasons I often, self-protectively, remind people that I am not a theologian (I am, rather, a cultural anthropologist who studies religion) is that a theologian would probably be required to have an answer for that question of whether or not I "count" as a Christian. I quite like that I am allowed to shrug my anthropological shoulders at it. A theologian would know a lot more about the history of Christian doctrinal norms over the years, and they would be able to say “yes or no” to my questions about whether believing X, Y, or Z about Jesus is enough to let me pass as a Christian.  

I'm *not* a theologian, but I vaguely remember reading something by the Christian theologian Roger Haight in the delightful book Jesus and Buddha: Friends in Conversation where he asserted that there are a few “bottom line” doctrinal points that Christians have to believe in in order to be a Christian. One of these doctrines was about belief in resurrection. If that's correct, then even if I’m able to INTERPRET resurrection as having a different purpose than paying my sin-debt, I suppose I do struggle to believe that someone was medically dead for three days and then returned to life. So maybe I’m eternally-outcast on the Christian identity bit, I’m not sure. Go ask a theologian!)

Returning to Easter

But here’s the thought that has kept circling around in my mind leading up to, and during, this Easter weekend: I care about Easter. After a multi-year hiatus from caring at all about it--or really any religious holy day--it is beginning to feel meaningful for me once again. So, I've wondered: why am I leaning back towards it? What’s the substance of my inklings? (Some Christians might say that God is calling me back to him. I suppose that's a possibility.) But, at this point in time, I'm more interested in what is going on in my heart/mind/soul/body. What rises up in me? If Easter is giving me an emotional response, what are these emotions? (FYI, I'm trying to get better at knowing and naming my emotions. It's something that Marc Brackett speaks very wisely about.) There is no tangible sense of joy, nor fear, that I have been able to locate and yet there is a deep sense of meaning, respect, and awe. 

I’ve been trying to narrow in on what I find meaningful about Easter. Is it akin to nostalgia? Or, levelling-up, is it like the Portuguese saudade , e.g. the deep emotionally-entrenched longing for the familiar? Or is it that I want to be able to punctuate my annual calendar with spiritually-meaningful moments, and the global take-over of Christianity has made it quite convenient to align myself with Christian holidays? After all, I’m not sure about you, but my Good Friday day-off-work was, indeed, quite good!

It might be some of those things. 

But I think it is also the story of Easter itself that I find meaningful and compelling: it’s a story about a loving, wise teacher who inspired many and challenged more. Who chose non-violence when faced with violence. Who suffered, brutally, in
the midst of it all—who felt abandonment/betrayal from God himself [...herself.../Itself..?]—and who still persevered. And who, the story goes, managed to overturn the very notion of death itself through resurrection. It's a story about the act of death itself being somehow able to defeat death...in other words, it's a story about how all things eventually turn back to life. 

Photo by Nika Kuchuk

Resurrection is Everywhere

This sense---that all things eventually turn back to life---feels overwhelmingly true the more I experience and reflect on life. As the snow melts around me and the energies of springtime begin to flow—in the budding leaves, in the soaring and singing birds, in the rippling water…and, I hasten to admit, in the smelly dog-shit and bits of trash that are being more and more revealed in my neighbour’s backyard—I cannot help but feel that a story about the way that everything leads back again to life, is a story worth celebrating. Resurrection tales are not unique to Christianity and Jesus, but the details of the Jesus/Christian story are a uniquely-formed invitation to reflect on the ways that death and life intertwine and, indeed, get mixed up with each other. I for one find the story quite awe-inspiring. 

I’m a little fuzzy over whether it’s rude or even inappropriate for me to summarize the Easter story in this way without paying attention to either historicity or theological accuracy. But I love the story. It feels hopeful—if a little heretical. 

Earth Overshoot Day

Reading time: 6 minutes
Key words: Climate change, environmental awareness, sustainability, ecological impact, global footprint

Today's blog is written by guest blogger Kaitlin Carlson.

Earth Overshoot Day

On August 1 2018, we, the collective citizens of Earth, had used up all of the ecological resources the planet could generate for us this year. Earth Overshoot Day passed without most of us (including myself) even knowing about it, and we continued on with business as usual - generating waste (the average Canadian generates 2.3kg of waste per DAY) and explicitly or implicitly contributing to other activities which simply aren’t sustainable.

Let me begin by providing some background on what Earth Overshoot Day really represents. It’s a metric calculated by the GlobalFootprint Network to give us an idea of how our consumption compares to earth’s production capacity using the following formula [1]:

Planet’s Biocapacity ÷ Humanity’s Ecological Footprint x 365 days = Earth Overshoot Day

Both biocapacity and ecological footprint are measured in terms of area (hectares). Biocapacity refers to the area of land and sea that is biologically productive and includes forests, grazing and crop lands, fishing grounds, and built-up land. Ecological footprint is a measure of the population’s demand for plant and animal-based food products, timber/forest products, space used for infrastructure, and forest area to offset carbon dioxide emissions (mainly from fossil fuel consumption).

In a sustainable world, Earth Overshoot Day would not exist - or at least it wouldn’t occur until December 31 of any given year. But, in the last five decades, we have consistently been hitting Earth Overshoot Day well before the end of the year. Here’s how Earth Overshoot Day has been trending since the 1970s [2].

Looks like we’ve been over-consuming for some time, and 2018 was our highest-consumption year yet - we maxed out our annual biocapacity with still five months left to go. This means that we would need 1.7 times the biocapacity of our earth just to break even. Since Earth currently does not import from other planets, this is troublesome.

There is no planet B (at least for now)! [3]

Earth Overshoot Day should give us cause for concern, and hopefully make us take action to make some serious changes. Beware though; there are well-founded criticisms of the use of Earth Overshoot Day as an indicator of our impact on the planet. The main criticism is that the calculation isn’t overly scientific. It turns out that each land use type included in the calculation is nearly balanced in biocapacity and ecological footprint except for carbon dioxide emissions [4]. What this means is that when the Earth Overshoot Day calculation tells us that we’ve consumed a year’s worth resources by August 1, it isn’t technically accurate. Rather, we've actually consumed a year’s worth of carbon, but we still have a surplus of the other resources to work with for the remainder of the year [5]. (If you want to calculate your individual carbon footprint, you might find this guide  interesting.)

On the surface this point might seem like a good thing; maybe our food production, deforestation, and construction is sustainable? (…That intuitively doesn’t seem right, does it?) The alternative solution is that the use of area (hectares) as a measurement of biocapacity or footprint must be an oversimplification. Critics argue that such a simple measure of our impact on the planet cannot capture the real consequences [6].

But, even if we accept it to be an oversimplification, Earth Overshoot Day is still a call to action that captures the attention of the public at large in terms all people can understand: we’re depleting the earth’s resources at an alarming rate. The Global Footprint Network’s #MovetheDate campaign puts the power in our hands to lessen our ecological debt to the earth. Let's see if we can collectively make changes in order to #movethedate for 2019! Calculate your ecological footprint and get ideas of how you can help move next year’s date by using this footprint tracker.

References

[1] Global Footprint Network, "Earth Overshoot Day," Global Footprint Network, 2018. [Online]. Available: https://www.overshootday.org/newsroom/past-earth-overshoot-days/. [Accessed 08 October 2018].

[2] mw238, "flickr," 29 November 2015. [Online]. Available: https://www.flickr.com/photos/mw238/23400563466/. [Accessed 17 October 2018].

[3] R. B. Richardson, "Earth Overshoot Day May Seriously Underestimate Humanity's Ecological Footprint," ScienceAlert, 30 July 2018. [Online]. Available: https://www.sciencealert.com/earth-overshoot-day-may-seriously-underestimate-humanity-s-ecological-footprint. [Accessed 17 October 2018].

[4] B. W. Brook, E. C. Ellis, P. M. Kareiva, T. Nordhaus and M. Shellenberger, "Does the Shoe Fit? Real versus Imagined Ecological Footprints," PLOS Biology, 5 November 2013. [Online]. Available: https://journals.plos.org/plosbiology/article?id=10.1371/journal.pbio.1001700. [Accessed 17 October 2018]. 

[5] F. Pearce, "Admit it: we can’t measure our ecological footprint," New Scientist Ltd., 20 November 2013. [Online]. Available: https://www.newscientist.com/article/mg22029445-000-admit-it-we-cant-measure-our-ecological-footprint/. [Accessed 17 October 2018].

Put Your Action Where Your Mind Is

Reading time: 6 minutes
Summary: This post is about the things we know are good for our mental health, but that we don't always make an effort to do; it can hopefully encourage you to find ways to do the things that you know are helpful for you. 

Last week I read Brené Brown's "The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You're Supposed to Be and Embrace Who You Are. Your Guide to a Wholehearted Life." I admit I cringed when I saw the cheesy cover combined with the cheesy title, BUT the author is Brené Brown, and she has gained both my respect and my interest by her overall approach to mental health. Brené and I seem to share a task-oriented stubborn determination to plough through life, achieving whatever strikes our fancy (and ideally doing so faster and better than everyone else. '...Life is a competitive race, right?' No? Just me..? Ok.) You can get a sense of her research on shame, courage, vulnerability, and wholehearted living, as well as her approach to mental health more generally, by watching her tedtalk. (It's one of my favourites.)

There are many parts of Brené's book which I found striking and helpful, but I'm going to summarize just a few of them here. I should note that, while I've picked up on these from reading her book, there are so many other influences in my life lately that make me hone in on these particular things. Other big influences have been the PhD I'm doing at the University of Cambridge with a supervisor who values and encourages deep learning, attending meditation retreats with Jaya Ashmore, reading poetry (I really love the works of Mary Oliver, Rainer Maria Rilke, Nayyirah Waheed, William Stafford, and Wendell Berry), reading books or listening to podcasts by theologians/philosophers/individuals who grapple with questions of faith and what it means to be human (Paul Knitter, Swami Prabhavananda, Ram Dass, Pema Chödrön, and The Liturgists podcast), as well as having an abundance of conversations with dear friends and colleagues. I'm so grateful for each of these influences. 

Alright, back to some insights gleaned from reading Brené Brown's book. 

1. If we pay attention to our bodies, we can note physical symptoms of anxiety, stress, freak-outs, etc. Recognizing the physical symptoms can "cue us" to respond healthily. 
If you are like me, you might not 'listen to your body' all that often. (This is coming from the girl who rarely takes sick days, who has played basketball with a broken wrist & jumped on a trampoline with a broken ankle---to name a few.) Let's say, for example, you open up an email from someone that says something critical of you, or that for another reason you find troublesome. If you were to notice that your palms are sweating, or that you have a headache, or that your chest feels tight, or that you've just clenched all the muscles in your neck, it might be a good moment to pause, take a deep breath (or a nap) or even wait an entire day before replying. This can be true on much bigger scales, as well.

2. "If we want to live a wholehearted life, we have to become intentional about cultivating sleep and play, and about letting go of exhaustion as a status symbol and productivity as self-worth."
I find that this is especially true of graduate students or early career individuals, or anyone who is still trying to "prove themselves." Sometimes we don't even realize it, but phrases like "I was at the library 12 hours yesterday", or even just feeling exhausted and taking that as indicative of working hard---AND SOMEHOW FEELING PROUD ABOUT IT!?!?!---is very very damaging to our mental (and physical) health! Research by Lynne Twist also shows that we increasingly feel like we have to be busy and productive in order to be good, admirable people. That's kind of messed up.. Sleep and play are both important. Make time for them.

3. There is not only a big difference between the things we achieve and the things that make us joyful but the things that we are trying to achieve do not always allow for the things that make us joyful.
Brown suggests to make a list of the things you are doing when you feel joyful, and to place that side by side with a list of things that you are actively and intentionally trying to achieve. Do they line up? Do the things on the latter list actually allow for / encourage the things on the former? I tried it, and on the "achievement" list I had things like "publish a peer reviewed article", "get a tenure track teaching job." On the "joyful" list I had things like "garden," "play music with friends," "cook and eat good food." Some of the desired achievements did allow space for the things that make me joyful, but many did not---and this certainly made me wonder whether I have my priories straight! (Consider asking yourself the question: 'Why am I spending all this time and energy trying to achieve goals that do not give me nearly as as much joy as the things that I already have within my grasp?' I'm certain there are ways to intentionally focus more on the things that give us joy...)

This leads us to the next and last one:
4. There is a difference between theoretically agreeing with something, and acting upon it. So often, we become theoretical advocates for things that improve mental health, but we rarely follow through ourselves.
Reflecting upon this made me come up with the phrase "put your action where your mind is" (from 'put your money where your mouth is'). There are so many things that I advocate for and/or theoretically agree are valuable, but it is rare for me to prioritize them into my busy schedule. I love lists, so of course I made a list of these, too. For me, they included: spiritual practice, community and relationships, reading, exercise, tidiness, deep rest and relaxation, intentional creativity (art, music, writing), being outside. But, when I look at how I spend my time, it is mostly: PhD reading/writing, other academic side projects, applying for future academic projects, scarfing down food, going to the gym simply to check off 'exercise' from my to do list, and Netflix. (Of course, I sometimes do make some time for the other things, but they are rarely a priority. I'm not proud of it, but if I feel short on time, it is always the "extra mental health stuff" that is the first to get cut from my daily rhythm.) 

I wonder what might life look like if we didn't view those 'good for mental health things' as extras, that could be fit in if and when we finished all the 'real' stuff? What if, instead, we were to recognize them as important pillars for the rest of life? For one, I suspect that our self-worth, our relationships with others, and even our work ethic/creativity output would all improve...

Grad School + Beyond:

I'm 3 years into my PhD and I just read the statistic: "only three or four in every hundred PhD students in the United Kingdom will land a permanent staff position at a university."
The stat showed up in this article in Nature's International Weekly Journal of Science, which is written with regard to the sciences, but I have my severe doubts that the humanities are any better off: the reality is that myself and most graduate students I know will be hard-pressed to get a permanent contract with a university even after we've all become "Doctor ____."
This should cause us to pause and reflect on why we're doing these degrees in the first place.
To me, graduate studies---isolated yet competitive work culture, high-stress, long hours, low-pay, and seemingly with no promise of an academic job that most people assume they will fall into---is really only worth it if you (a) can work with the flexible learning environment it allows (/forces upon) you; and (b) can stay happy/healthy while doing it.
An alarmingly high number of students struggle to stay happy and healthy + link this struggle to their studies/work environment. Some studies like this one in Science have shown that 1 in 3 graduate students struggle with mental health on account of their workload and work environment (and, based on my friend/colleague circle, I'd speculate it's actually significantly higher than 33%.)
I assume I will be happy to have done my PhD even if I wind up in a career totally outside of academia where my PhD specifics aren't really needed (/useful?) (--but then again, I only pursued graduate studies in the first place because it provided a debt-free, albeit financially meagre, way to do full-time learning on topics that interest me.) I truly hope that other grad students feel similarly, and that they're studying their various research topics primarily because they enjoy the process of studying. (At least, I pity those of you who are wading through grad school, not enjoying it at all, but are under the [false?] hope that you will end up in a TT professorship job.)
So, if this is indeed true that the process itself ought to be enjoyable, it is most important that we focus on enjoying the actual process at hand.
A few things come to mind in this regard. I'm writing them out somewhat with the hope that I will force myself to adopt them for myself...(that is, they are pieces of advice which are thus far hypocritical due to not following them myself...)

1. Abandon the 'publish or perish' paradigm. 2. Stop stressing that I haven't read enough theories, or don't know as much of the literature as xyz. 3. Focus on learning for the sake of improving my knowledge of a topic that interests/intrigues me---not for appearing smart, not for impressing my supervisor, etc. 4. Don't try to make a perfect + brilliant thesis/paper/etc. That benchmark is unrealistic and can be somewhat uninspiring. Try to write something that is interesting, or challenging, or inspiring, or beautiful, ...and coherent. It doesn't have to incorporate everything you've learned and it doesn't have to be applauded by the academe. 5. (I would like your tips/feedback!) And, now, a poem...which I find challenging, inspiring, beautiful, and coherent.

"Every day I see or hear something that more or less

kills me with delight, that leaves me like a needle

in the haystack of light. It was what I was born for - to look, to listen, to lose myself inside this soft world - to instruct myself over and over in joy, and acclamation."

~ Mary Oliver (USA, 1935-), from “Mindful,” Why I Wake Early

Rosemary Apple Pie/Crumble

After many months since last posting (oops) I thought I would resurrect this blog with some baked goods. Below you will find a recipe for a delicious rosemary-apple pie/crumble.

It is a great way of using rosemary in a dessert to spice (herb?) it up! But because both the rosemary and the apples I used were foraged, let me give a bit of context to that.

Three things you might already know about me:

1. I love being outside
2. I hate wasting things, or seeing wasted items
3. I find satisfaction in creating good things on minimal budgets
Add all this together and you have a pretty good combination leaning towards food foraging.

My friend took this photo today while we were foraging blackberries to make yet another crumble

I also take glee in being somewhat mischevious, and so when my former neighbours emailed me last weekend to ask if I wanted to join them in sneakily picking some apples from the back garden of my old house, the answer was an automatic yes. Together, we went into the abandoned garden and picked a large bag of apples. That same afternoon, on my way home, with my apples in tow, I grabbed a few handfuls of fresh rosemary from a rosemary bush that was taking over the public bike path. (At that particular moment, I had not yet planned this dessert.) And to top it all off I also passed a big bin of apples that people were giving away, and so I added a couple of those to my pile. 

The next day, I decided to try mixing the rosemary and apples into a pie or crumble. I used this recipe (http://mysecondbreakfast.com/rosemary-apple-pie-recipe/) as my model, though I modified it a little bit. I'd recommend looking at the recipe link if you want more specific instructions!


Step 1: The pie crust
1 1/4 cup all purpose flour

1 tablespoon sugar

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon rosemary, chopped finely

8 tablespoons (1 stick) butter (cut into thin cubes)

~5 tablespoons of cold soy milk

Mix in order given, cutting the butter in with a pastry cutter, fork, or clean fingers. Before adding the milk, your pastry should have the texture of wet, coarse sand. Add the milk slowly, and once it holds together when you pinch it between your fingers, don't add any more milk! (You could also use dairy milk; the original recipe calls for that, but I had soy milk on hand!)

Place the pastry in the fridge for a few hours before rolling it out. (I let mine sit overnight, since I might the pie crust at 9pm and didn’t want to wait up to bake.)
When you're ready to roll it out, if you're like me and you don’t have a rolling pin, you can use a clean wine bottle. :D 

Step 2: The Apples filling
- washed, (mostly) peeled, and sliced the apples until you have a big bowl of them
-flavour with cinnamon, the juice of half of lemon, a  dash of nutmeg, splash of vanilla extract, a crack of sea salt, and some sugar; toss it around in this mixture. 

Step 3: The topping
This is an alternative to topping it with another pie crust, though you'd be welcome to do that!
- 1 cup rolled oats
- 1/4 cup (30g) brown sugar (I used less)
- 1/8 teaspoon salt
- 2 teaspoons rosemary, finely chopped
- 4 tablespoons cold, unsalted butter (I considered coconut oil for this, since that's what I normally would do for crumble, but I decided to not add in another flavour...maybe next time!)

You can either make a regular sized pie with this crust or you can do as I did and make little pies in muffin trays. 

I put some coconut oil on the muffin tins so that the crust did not stick, and then rolled it out with a wine bottle and cut it with a large beer glass I have on hand. (Hmmm. I didn’t notice all these alcohol usages before writing it out like this.)

I placed the circle cut outs in the muffin tins, filled it VERY HIGH with apples....

 

...and then put the crumble on top. :D

I topped it with a few pecan pieces and then put it in the oven. I baked it at 180 Celsius for about 20 minutes. 

They were delicious! They really held their shape and the pie crust was quite tasty, with the rosemary giving a nice flavour to all of it.  Voila!

Bon appétit!