I just visited a beautiful house in the country where a Canadian German collects books like a plague. His house mimics my own dream house: a study with perfect natural lighting, a lovely drawing room, bookshelves filled with rare collections and a light blue exterior on a five-acre farm property. I have been thinking about God lately namely because I am starting to finally see God in myself after so many months of colourless participation in this world. What follows are a few thoughts about religion, faith, Christianity. I do not aspire to offend or argue. I am only recording my thoughts for myself although I will admit that I want someone to read, challenge or agree with them because I'm lost in the woods like little red riding hood on the way to grandma's.
My father is a professor of theology. I had access to theologians, texts and thoughts from a very young age. He started preaching outside cinema halls in Kerala and eventually wrote a psychoanalysis of the scribes who wrote the Qumran Scrolls. For most of my life, I have avoided any theological discussion with my father simply because it is his area of expertise and not mine. I prefer to see Dad as nothing more and nothing less than Dad. His reputation and work in any field other than fatherhood is not of particular interest to me. The abundance of Christian theology in my life drew me away from any personal interest in the subject. I grew up in the shadow of too much theology. In fact, it began to repulse me because I cast the lives of a few individuals (who I had judged as hypocrites even though I converted to a life of hypocrisy myself through these judgments) against the ideas of the few texts I read. Life began to seem like an illusion, a constant argument to debate and define what and who God was and is and will be. When I arrived at Anderson University three years ago, I met a group of students who were studying Bible & Religion. While I admired their search for religious certainty (I made another assumption here), I didn't want to partake in any more discussions about faith. My qualm with theological parlance is when it lingers in the realm of thought and not touch; when discussion distances itself from action and practice. I will admit that I am Christian by birth first and at this point in my life, I'm questioning whether I would choose to be Christian if I was not born a Pulikottil.
I know my fair share of Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists, Jains, Atheists, and Christians (of various denominations but mostly pentecostals) who each demonstrate beautiful strengths and equally beautiful weaknesses. There are various aspects of each religion that I appreciate. For instance, the perceived divinity of all living and non-living things in Hinduism, the Quran's version of The Fall, the simplicity in Buddhism and Jainism, the intellectualism or laissez-faire attitude of the atheist and the life of Christ. At moments, I am insulted and provoked by certain beliefs but I remind myself that we are all human (full of potential to either create or destroy). Most of our religious texts were recorded through humans. History and language play an important role in our understanding and interpretation of these ancient texts. I am not concerned with religion as much as I am concerned with humanity. I want a person to show me their humanity before they show me their faith. If their faith is a means to demonstrate their humanity, so be it; however, I am not entertained by the facade faith provides some. I do not want you to hide behind your God(s). I want you to stand with me, with us before whatever and whoever God is. To me, God is the end not a means to achieve something on earth. Heaven to me truly is a state of mind and being that can be experienced in the land of living. In fact, I believe we are called not to escape the troubles and temptations of this world through the idea of a heaven after death but to rise above our temptations in this life. I do not think that one can be Christian instead, one is always becoming Christian. This becoming phase is not rid of temptations, it simply means that an individual is more capable of identifying sources of temptations. It is silly for an institution to call itself Christian for it cannot speak for every individual who works or attends the institution; nor can it be held accountable for each of their actions. I thought my Christian faith was strong until I came to college.
American Christianity is very interesting to me, and the source of my dissatisfaction with the larger faith. Never have I seen so many Christians in favour of war. It makes me wonder who God is - the American political system, the military-industrial complex, money, personal desire? While I understand and recognize abuses across the world (in my own India for example), I have never seen such a wide scale dismissal of responsibility. It troubles me when I walk into a church to be welcomed by concert like worship, a sermon encouraging more shallow missionary work in the East and a church bulletin that ends with Pray for Our Troops. When did the church get its own army? I immediately withdrew from this American church environment because it seemed to externalize the problems. Current global conflicts reflect the internal trauma of each individual. We must look inward before we can attempt to solve anything outside. I have hurt a number of people because I was not satisfied with myself. When a group of individuals who are suffering internally come together, they can either choose to creatively attend to this tension or cause severe tragedy externally.
When I was fifteen, I was convinced I could cure malnutrition in India. A BBC article motivated me to action. I didn't get very far because I was young and too busy with high school. I did not understand the depth of the issue, but my heart was stirred. I have lived a fairly fortunate life, but I'm certain that a number of people would tell me that it could be better. However, I have had enough. In fact, I have had too much. My circumstance, as a middle class women in urban India, has blessed me with a legion of opportunities; at the same time, I am guilty of participating in a number of oppressive systems that hides victims behind factory walls, slums and dark corners of cities. I am just as guilty as the person next to me. My understanding of faith calls us to convert our guilt into responsibility. We are called to love one another as ourselves. As I was reading Works of Love by Soren Kierkegaard for a class last semester, I realized the importance of loving oneself. I was suffering from another bout of depression after a few traumatic incidents. I have never felt so lonely before even though I was constantly surrounded by beautiful, intelligent, loving people. My heart was called to attend to the needs of the Other very early, and I am easily evoked by images, conversations, questions and sights of broken humanity. However, I often forget that I am a part of this humanity. I cannot aid the broken without recognizing that I am broken as well. I would be lying to myself (and to you my dear reader) if I pretended to be superior in ability and need. I am no one but Amrutha Pulikottil. I am also capable of being utterly selfish. I have learned that I must love myself before I can love my neighbour. Any understanding of faith provides us an understanding of love. In the Christian faith, I believe we are called to give up the immediate beauty for the pursuit of something ugly. Yes, we are commanded to love something that we do not find immediately attractive. Far from romantic but it is for this reason that I have decided to stay in Anderson after graduation. I do not know what I will do yet but I hope to teach, write, draw, bike, love, converse, cook and give a boy a fair chance for once. I have decided to stay because I am called to love this gold plated town. I am called to challenge those memories of abuse because I can rise above the temptation that threatens to drive me away.
Two images have lingered in my mind over the past few weeks though. The first is my response to spare change charity while the second demonstrates my struggle to sustain my own beliefs. Mega churches irritate me because they seem to be concerned with appearance and numbers. As my father and I were driving back to our small apartment after picking up pizza, we talked about my distaste for the rise of mega churches in America. People in that church give because they have extra. During the recession, people started to give less to the church. According to Ray Mayhew, 20 cents from every dollar actually goes to the community while 80 cents goes to the church's high maintenance costs - lights, cameras, action! I don't believe people of faith should respond to an economical downturn in such a manner. By consciously giving less in an attempt to balance the family budget, are we not saying that God is not capable of blessings? Is that not a lack of trust, of selfishness, of greed? God sent his only son. Would it be the same if he had two sons, and spared one of the sons for humanity? Would it be the same if he gave us his extra son rather than his only son? I don't believe so. This is why I think every act of giving must be preceded by an act of sacrifice. We shouldn't give our extras to God. We should take away from ourselves as we give to God through a love for the Other. My father recognized my disapproval of spare change giving before explaining his views on war, America and Christianity. I do not intend to share them on my blog for two reasons: a) you can engage in your own conversation with him (he would happily do so) and b) I would not efficiently duplicate his views here.
The second image that lives in my imagination can be expressed through the question, how far into the ocean can you walk till the tide naturally forces you back to shore? I imagine myself walking out into the sea of naturalized problems (materialism, militarism, oppression, unfair labour laws, bias trade agreements, exploitation etc) with my naive set of beliefs. How long will I last till the force of it all pushes me back? If I hold hands with someone and walk into the waters do I have a greater chance of going further? Will we both fall down? Does faith lower my density so I can walk on the water as I continue to walk toward to the horizon against the tide of harm?
I leave you with that. I must go to bed now if I expect to wake up in time for community breakfast and church. I will probably spend the next few weeks writing papers, studying for tests, reading and running in an attempt to get through the first semester of my senior year at Anderson University.
My father is a professor of theology. I had access to theologians, texts and thoughts from a very young age. He started preaching outside cinema halls in Kerala and eventually wrote a psychoanalysis of the scribes who wrote the Qumran Scrolls. For most of my life, I have avoided any theological discussion with my father simply because it is his area of expertise and not mine. I prefer to see Dad as nothing more and nothing less than Dad. His reputation and work in any field other than fatherhood is not of particular interest to me. The abundance of Christian theology in my life drew me away from any personal interest in the subject. I grew up in the shadow of too much theology. In fact, it began to repulse me because I cast the lives of a few individuals (who I had judged as hypocrites even though I converted to a life of hypocrisy myself through these judgments) against the ideas of the few texts I read. Life began to seem like an illusion, a constant argument to debate and define what and who God was and is and will be. When I arrived at Anderson University three years ago, I met a group of students who were studying Bible & Religion. While I admired their search for religious certainty (I made another assumption here), I didn't want to partake in any more discussions about faith. My qualm with theological parlance is when it lingers in the realm of thought and not touch; when discussion distances itself from action and practice. I will admit that I am Christian by birth first and at this point in my life, I'm questioning whether I would choose to be Christian if I was not born a Pulikottil.
I know my fair share of Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists, Jains, Atheists, and Christians (of various denominations but mostly pentecostals) who each demonstrate beautiful strengths and equally beautiful weaknesses. There are various aspects of each religion that I appreciate. For instance, the perceived divinity of all living and non-living things in Hinduism, the Quran's version of The Fall, the simplicity in Buddhism and Jainism, the intellectualism or laissez-faire attitude of the atheist and the life of Christ. At moments, I am insulted and provoked by certain beliefs but I remind myself that we are all human (full of potential to either create or destroy). Most of our religious texts were recorded through humans. History and language play an important role in our understanding and interpretation of these ancient texts. I am not concerned with religion as much as I am concerned with humanity. I want a person to show me their humanity before they show me their faith. If their faith is a means to demonstrate their humanity, so be it; however, I am not entertained by the facade faith provides some. I do not want you to hide behind your God(s). I want you to stand with me, with us before whatever and whoever God is. To me, God is the end not a means to achieve something on earth. Heaven to me truly is a state of mind and being that can be experienced in the land of living. In fact, I believe we are called not to escape the troubles and temptations of this world through the idea of a heaven after death but to rise above our temptations in this life. I do not think that one can be Christian instead, one is always becoming Christian. This becoming phase is not rid of temptations, it simply means that an individual is more capable of identifying sources of temptations. It is silly for an institution to call itself Christian for it cannot speak for every individual who works or attends the institution; nor can it be held accountable for each of their actions. I thought my Christian faith was strong until I came to college.
American Christianity is very interesting to me, and the source of my dissatisfaction with the larger faith. Never have I seen so many Christians in favour of war. It makes me wonder who God is - the American political system, the military-industrial complex, money, personal desire? While I understand and recognize abuses across the world (in my own India for example), I have never seen such a wide scale dismissal of responsibility. It troubles me when I walk into a church to be welcomed by concert like worship, a sermon encouraging more shallow missionary work in the East and a church bulletin that ends with Pray for Our Troops. When did the church get its own army? I immediately withdrew from this American church environment because it seemed to externalize the problems. Current global conflicts reflect the internal trauma of each individual. We must look inward before we can attempt to solve anything outside. I have hurt a number of people because I was not satisfied with myself. When a group of individuals who are suffering internally come together, they can either choose to creatively attend to this tension or cause severe tragedy externally.
When I was fifteen, I was convinced I could cure malnutrition in India. A BBC article motivated me to action. I didn't get very far because I was young and too busy with high school. I did not understand the depth of the issue, but my heart was stirred. I have lived a fairly fortunate life, but I'm certain that a number of people would tell me that it could be better. However, I have had enough. In fact, I have had too much. My circumstance, as a middle class women in urban India, has blessed me with a legion of opportunities; at the same time, I am guilty of participating in a number of oppressive systems that hides victims behind factory walls, slums and dark corners of cities. I am just as guilty as the person next to me. My understanding of faith calls us to convert our guilt into responsibility. We are called to love one another as ourselves. As I was reading Works of Love by Soren Kierkegaard for a class last semester, I realized the importance of loving oneself. I was suffering from another bout of depression after a few traumatic incidents. I have never felt so lonely before even though I was constantly surrounded by beautiful, intelligent, loving people. My heart was called to attend to the needs of the Other very early, and I am easily evoked by images, conversations, questions and sights of broken humanity. However, I often forget that I am a part of this humanity. I cannot aid the broken without recognizing that I am broken as well. I would be lying to myself (and to you my dear reader) if I pretended to be superior in ability and need. I am no one but Amrutha Pulikottil. I am also capable of being utterly selfish. I have learned that I must love myself before I can love my neighbour. Any understanding of faith provides us an understanding of love. In the Christian faith, I believe we are called to give up the immediate beauty for the pursuit of something ugly. Yes, we are commanded to love something that we do not find immediately attractive. Far from romantic but it is for this reason that I have decided to stay in Anderson after graduation. I do not know what I will do yet but I hope to teach, write, draw, bike, love, converse, cook and give a boy a fair chance for once. I have decided to stay because I am called to love this gold plated town. I am called to challenge those memories of abuse because I can rise above the temptation that threatens to drive me away.
Two images have lingered in my mind over the past few weeks though. The first is my response to spare change charity while the second demonstrates my struggle to sustain my own beliefs. Mega churches irritate me because they seem to be concerned with appearance and numbers. As my father and I were driving back to our small apartment after picking up pizza, we talked about my distaste for the rise of mega churches in America. People in that church give because they have extra. During the recession, people started to give less to the church. According to Ray Mayhew, 20 cents from every dollar actually goes to the community while 80 cents goes to the church's high maintenance costs - lights, cameras, action! I don't believe people of faith should respond to an economical downturn in such a manner. By consciously giving less in an attempt to balance the family budget, are we not saying that God is not capable of blessings? Is that not a lack of trust, of selfishness, of greed? God sent his only son. Would it be the same if he had two sons, and spared one of the sons for humanity? Would it be the same if he gave us his extra son rather than his only son? I don't believe so. This is why I think every act of giving must be preceded by an act of sacrifice. We shouldn't give our extras to God. We should take away from ourselves as we give to God through a love for the Other. My father recognized my disapproval of spare change giving before explaining his views on war, America and Christianity. I do not intend to share them on my blog for two reasons: a) you can engage in your own conversation with him (he would happily do so) and b) I would not efficiently duplicate his views here.
The second image that lives in my imagination can be expressed through the question, how far into the ocean can you walk till the tide naturally forces you back to shore? I imagine myself walking out into the sea of naturalized problems (materialism, militarism, oppression, unfair labour laws, bias trade agreements, exploitation etc) with my naive set of beliefs. How long will I last till the force of it all pushes me back? If I hold hands with someone and walk into the waters do I have a greater chance of going further? Will we both fall down? Does faith lower my density so I can walk on the water as I continue to walk toward to the horizon against the tide of harm?
I leave you with that. I must go to bed now if I expect to wake up in time for community breakfast and church. I will probably spend the next few weeks writing papers, studying for tests, reading and running in an attempt to get through the first semester of my senior year at Anderson University.
