Philosophy nerd quiz: Describe Kant's second formulation of the categorical imperative.
Anyone, anyone? Buller?
Okay, I'll tell you: human beings should be treated as ends, not means. Honor all humans as beings with dignity.
Why such a fancy title? And who is Kant anyway?
I learned this and more in a lecture Feb. 26 at the University of Alaska Anchorage, in an ethics class taught by my friend Dr. Ray Anthony (who was part of Central's Brevig Mission trip last year and also sings tenor in the Alaska Native Lutheran Church choir). Small world.
Two Central members joined me for this lecture in Ray's ethics class. For those of us (okay, me) who are used to thinking about morality in theological terms, it was interesting to hear it from another perspective.
The class has been discussing the moral reasoning set out by Immanuel Kant, an 18th century German philosopher (so says Wikipedia). Kant is one of the famed thinkers of the Enlightenment. It's interesting that Kant's ideas are called "imperatives," meaning he thinks that desicions based on sound moral reasoning are "musts" for any thinking person.
Actions, said Kant, should be made in accordance to moral rule, should be rational and should be consistent with what any other rational person would do in the same circumstance.
Of course I agree with Kant that we should treat all humans as persons with dignity (from God, I'd add) and that people are ends to themselves, not means to get what I want. That said, we "use" people all the time to meet our needs. That's okay, said Kant, as long as you honor that they don't exist just to meet your need. Still honor their dignity and personhood even as they help you out. Interesting, I think.
Using Kant's principles, the class discussed an article called "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas," by Ursula Le Guin. Synopsis: a fabled city called Omelas is perfect, except for one child who lives in abject misery locked in a basement. All citizens of Omelas believe the child must remain in torture for their happiness to continue. If the child was freed, life in Omelas would cease to be perfect.
But not all are content. Some choose to walk away from this city into the unknown.
Now in a Lutheran understanding, I'd say this child is a scapegoat, a place to cast the sins of the city so they can feel "perfect." It's a way of not recognizing the true nature of the human person as "saint and sinner."
Those who walked away from Omelas recognized it was wrong to treat the child as an object for the sake of their happiness. So they honored the child's status as a human with dignity.
But Ray made another good point: when they walked away, they also honored their own dignity. They embraced their own dignity by refusing to be complicit in a system that would treat a human as an object.
Ray asked the class: where in our city/country/world are humans treated like objects? How can we honor their dignity and our own by refusing to participate in these systems?
Someone in the class suggested sweatshops in other country, where workers put in 20-hour days with inadequate pay and conditions so I can get a shirt for $10 at Wal-Mart.
What do you think?
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
All kids are our kids
When I was an intern at Amazing Grace Lutheran here in Anchor-town, the congregation was focusinig on the "Assets" program to encourage adults to connect and support kids in the congregation.
Each Sunday, a member would read an "asset" that helps communities build healthy kids. She'd end with this chant, "All kids are our kids." The congregation got so good at this that it became common parlance around AGLC.
Today I attended an all-school assembly at Denali Elementary, just down the street from Central. As an aside, I don't think I've attended an assembly since the days when I sported blond pigtails, huge plastic glasses and light blue stirrup pants.
Anyway, the assembly was to honor students who'd completed Peer Mediator training, which empowers kids to be problem solvers among each other in classrooms and on playgrounds. The 3-day training was held at Central. We were to receive a thank you card just for offering the space in our building.
I came because I was asked, planned to accept my little thank you card and duck out early. I stayed for the whole assembly, mesmerized.
First, I was amazed at the kids' ability to sit on a hard floor and be mostly quiet.
Then, I was totally impressed with the guidance counselor's use of the values of Denali Elementary (respect and kindness are two of four). I was blown away by a presentation from a group of 6th-grade girls called "Girls Hold up the world" and a skit by a number of upper elementary students demonstrating the problems of name-calling. (We all chanted, "No sticks, no stones, no dissing.")
Finally, I was humbled by the gi-normous thankyou card for Central and the guidance counselor's comments thanking Central for its support of Denali and support of the Campfire USA program we house here. I had tears in my eyes as I accepted the card and watched the kids' presentation. These felt like "our kids" though I knew only a few of them from Campfire.
One of my parishioners who works at Denali sat next to me and she was teary-eyed too. We noted that maybe our world is full of hopelessness and kids standing up in front of other kids pledging to be mediators and warning about name-calling gives us hope for the world.
Take home lesson: be respectful of others, try to work out problems peacefully and most importantly, no dissing.
Oh that adults could live this in our world!
Each Sunday, a member would read an "asset" that helps communities build healthy kids. She'd end with this chant, "All kids are our kids." The congregation got so good at this that it became common parlance around AGLC.
Today I attended an all-school assembly at Denali Elementary, just down the street from Central. As an aside, I don't think I've attended an assembly since the days when I sported blond pigtails, huge plastic glasses and light blue stirrup pants.
Anyway, the assembly was to honor students who'd completed Peer Mediator training, which empowers kids to be problem solvers among each other in classrooms and on playgrounds. The 3-day training was held at Central. We were to receive a thank you card just for offering the space in our building.
I came because I was asked, planned to accept my little thank you card and duck out early. I stayed for the whole assembly, mesmerized.
First, I was amazed at the kids' ability to sit on a hard floor and be mostly quiet.
Then, I was totally impressed with the guidance counselor's use of the values of Denali Elementary (respect and kindness are two of four). I was blown away by a presentation from a group of 6th-grade girls called "Girls Hold up the world" and a skit by a number of upper elementary students demonstrating the problems of name-calling. (We all chanted, "No sticks, no stones, no dissing.")
Finally, I was humbled by the gi-normous thankyou card for Central and the guidance counselor's comments thanking Central for its support of Denali and support of the Campfire USA program we house here. I had tears in my eyes as I accepted the card and watched the kids' presentation. These felt like "our kids" though I knew only a few of them from Campfire.
One of my parishioners who works at Denali sat next to me and she was teary-eyed too. We noted that maybe our world is full of hopelessness and kids standing up in front of other kids pledging to be mediators and warning about name-calling gives us hope for the world.
Take home lesson: be respectful of others, try to work out problems peacefully and most importantly, no dissing.
Oh that adults could live this in our world!
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
The devil you know...
The Old Testament lesson for Sunday is about the Israelites and Moses wandering in the wildnerness, having just escaped Egypt (plagues, Passover, Red Sea, chariots drown, the whole nine yards).
Now, in Exodus 17:1-7 they seem to have forgotten that whole God-saved-them-from-everything experience and they are whining. Whining!
"We're thirsty...why did you bring us out of Egypt to kill us with thirst?" In another part of Exodus, when hungry and sick of manna, they say, "Would it not be better to be back in Egypt where we at least had leeks and onions to eat?"
Egypt would have been better? Yeah, if you're into building pyramids for some pharoah who views you as a replacable part. If you don't mind the lack of freedom to practice your religion. Yeah, slavery was great. Whatever!
Maybe I should give them a break. I mean, they did thank and praise God for the act of liberation from Egypt. And if I was wandering in a wilderness with no water and my kids and cows were dying of thirst, I guess I might cry out to God in such a way.
But what interests me most is the question in Exodus 17:7 "Is the Lord among us or not?" Gosh, how many times have we asked this question? Put another way: "Where is God when I'm suffering?"
At Pacific Lutheran Theological Seminary in Berkeley, where I studied, there's a fountain based on this story outside of Sawyer Hall, where community meals are searved. A bronze statue of Moses is striking a bronze "rock" and water gushes forth. It's lovely and always running.
The statue grabbed my imagination because I had a tough first year of seminary. California was too big, too scary and too far from home. I missed my family and Iowa terribly. I spent most of my first year figuring out how I could transfer back to a seminary in the Midwest. I had filled out all the paperwork for Luther Seminary in Minnesota. I just wanted to go home.
I was a grumbling Israelite: Why did you bring me to this God-forsaken place?!?
Somehow, though, that water fountain comforted me. It reminded me that God does call us into weird and wild places. It reminded me that God never promised our journeys would be neat, tidy and full of comforts of home. It reminded me that God was right next to me in my painful experiences.
In the end, I stayed in Berkeley and was forever grateful for that wilderness journey. An older friend once remarked that when she looked back at her life, she had many happy times to recall. But the times that were most formative and that she was now grateful for, were those times of struggle.
Is the Lord among us or not?
He is here. They call him Emmanuel.
Now, in Exodus 17:1-7 they seem to have forgotten that whole God-saved-them-from-everything experience and they are whining. Whining!
"We're thirsty...why did you bring us out of Egypt to kill us with thirst?" In another part of Exodus, when hungry and sick of manna, they say, "Would it not be better to be back in Egypt where we at least had leeks and onions to eat?"
Egypt would have been better? Yeah, if you're into building pyramids for some pharoah who views you as a replacable part. If you don't mind the lack of freedom to practice your religion. Yeah, slavery was great. Whatever!
Maybe I should give them a break. I mean, they did thank and praise God for the act of liberation from Egypt. And if I was wandering in a wilderness with no water and my kids and cows were dying of thirst, I guess I might cry out to God in such a way.
But what interests me most is the question in Exodus 17:7 "Is the Lord among us or not?" Gosh, how many times have we asked this question? Put another way: "Where is God when I'm suffering?"
At Pacific Lutheran Theological Seminary in Berkeley, where I studied, there's a fountain based on this story outside of Sawyer Hall, where community meals are searved. A bronze statue of Moses is striking a bronze "rock" and water gushes forth. It's lovely and always running.
The statue grabbed my imagination because I had a tough first year of seminary. California was too big, too scary and too far from home. I missed my family and Iowa terribly. I spent most of my first year figuring out how I could transfer back to a seminary in the Midwest. I had filled out all the paperwork for Luther Seminary in Minnesota. I just wanted to go home.
I was a grumbling Israelite: Why did you bring me to this God-forsaken place?!?
Somehow, though, that water fountain comforted me. It reminded me that God does call us into weird and wild places. It reminded me that God never promised our journeys would be neat, tidy and full of comforts of home. It reminded me that God was right next to me in my painful experiences.
In the end, I stayed in Berkeley and was forever grateful for that wilderness journey. An older friend once remarked that when she looked back at her life, she had many happy times to recall. But the times that were most formative and that she was now grateful for, were those times of struggle.
Is the Lord among us or not?
He is here. They call him Emmanuel.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Central, listen to your children
At Confirmation class last night (Feb 10), we discussed the history of the Lutheran movement as one that is always reforming, always growing and changing.
The worksheet from the curriculum asked if our congregation was growing, declining or staying the same. So the kids as me. I decided honesty was best. We're actually declining slightly in attendance. We discussed which churches in our city (and nation) are growing fastest (non-denominationals) and where the Lutheran church actually is growing (Africa).
So why isn't Central growing, I asked. Their responses startled me.
"When you walk into church, it's very stiff, it's not very welcoming. It's like a funeral."
"The way people act it's almost like they don't want you to be there."
Now this is just the opinion of some kids, but we must listen. Their voices matter. Yet even with these critiques, when I asked how we could grow Central, they got really into the brainstorming and I was touched by their honesty and passion. Here are some things they suggested.
* More potlucks
* Better advertising of worship and church events
* More activities for young people to bring their friends
* Some activities immediately after worship for youth
* Re-do the outside of the building
* Painting inside (kids volunteered to help)
* A better sign out front, maybe with color to attract people driving by
* A coffeestand selling espresso and treats on Sunday mornings
* Add more contemporary, upbeat music.
These are terrific ideas, probably better than the stuff our church council has come up with (no offense). Like most great ideas, they do take coordination and work to pull them off.
Any takers :)
The worksheet from the curriculum asked if our congregation was growing, declining or staying the same. So the kids as me. I decided honesty was best. We're actually declining slightly in attendance. We discussed which churches in our city (and nation) are growing fastest (non-denominationals) and where the Lutheran church actually is growing (Africa).
So why isn't Central growing, I asked. Their responses startled me.
"When you walk into church, it's very stiff, it's not very welcoming. It's like a funeral."
"The way people act it's almost like they don't want you to be there."
Now this is just the opinion of some kids, but we must listen. Their voices matter. Yet even with these critiques, when I asked how we could grow Central, they got really into the brainstorming and I was touched by their honesty and passion. Here are some things they suggested.
* More potlucks
* Better advertising of worship and church events
* More activities for young people to bring their friends
* Some activities immediately after worship for youth
* Re-do the outside of the building
* Painting inside (kids volunteered to help)
* A better sign out front, maybe with color to attract people driving by
* A coffeestand selling espresso and treats on Sunday mornings
* Add more contemporary, upbeat music.
These are terrific ideas, probably better than the stuff our church council has come up with (no offense). Like most great ideas, they do take coordination and work to pull them off.
Any takers :)
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
On Caucuses and Kazahk Airports
Attending the Alaska Democratic Caucus last night (Feb. 5) was akin to getting through security in an aiport in Kazahkstan. You just keep pushing.
Alaska (like my home state Iowa) has caucuses. Who knew? Apparently thousands of Anchorage-area folks, who slammed into Begich Middle School (Dems) and The Eagan Center (Repubs) to weigh in on Campaign 2008.
Getting there was half the fun (?). I sat in traffic for nearly 2 hours on 15th and Debarr, knowing I was arriving 50 minutes later than the doors-closing time. Luckily, Alaskans care very little for rules and proprieties, so you could register right up until the vote was counted.
Near the middle school, I pulled onto a sidestreet and ran the rest of the way. 12 mintues. Minus four degrees. With a flu bug I've nursed for four days. Hey, I love the policital process.
Cars were parked on sidewalks up and down Debarr Road, and the parking lot was full of cars parked so randonmly it was as if their owners were raptured, Left-Behind style. People were actually leaving cars in the roundabout in front of the school. When someone later had to be removed by ambulance, the person on the loudspeaker had to ask at least three times for cars to move out of the emergency vehicle's way.
Inside, the gym was a Kazahk airport. No lines, no order, just lots of blue signs screaming "Hillary" and "Obama" and glassy-eyed faces below. Many had arrived well before 5 pm. Registration was supposed to close at 6:30; I arrived at 6:50. People were still streaming around precinct maps and registration tables like so many drones in a hive. Voters hastilily filled out cards and pushed their way to registration officials to get counted.
When I finally found my precinct room, my room captain didn't even have a list of registered Democrats, so I had to re-register. I made it over to the floor just in time to get counted as an official voter. Then, more waiting until we could fan out and stand up for the candidate of our choice.
The woman on the loudspeaker in our room played dualing microphones with the overhead loudspeaker. Many precincts had to move rooms because they were too big. Someone in our room (precinct 23) had tried to create hospitality with cheese and crackers and potato chips. I missed the goodies; the empty carcasses littered tables, adding to the disheveled look of the room.
Finally, though, I was able to stand up for my candidate of choice and get counted. And that matters.
Despite my woozy-ness from flu and lack of food, it was a delight to see peoples' passion for the process. And the hope that things can be better in our nation. That we can stand up and ask for change. And that maybe, somehow, one of these candidates will listen to the voices of the people and advocate for the poor.
That's what I felt in the room that night: hope.
I was proud to be a part of the process.
Alaska (like my home state Iowa) has caucuses. Who knew? Apparently thousands of Anchorage-area folks, who slammed into Begich Middle School (Dems) and The Eagan Center (Repubs) to weigh in on Campaign 2008.
Getting there was half the fun (?). I sat in traffic for nearly 2 hours on 15th and Debarr, knowing I was arriving 50 minutes later than the doors-closing time. Luckily, Alaskans care very little for rules and proprieties, so you could register right up until the vote was counted.
Near the middle school, I pulled onto a sidestreet and ran the rest of the way. 12 mintues. Minus four degrees. With a flu bug I've nursed for four days. Hey, I love the policital process.
Cars were parked on sidewalks up and down Debarr Road, and the parking lot was full of cars parked so randonmly it was as if their owners were raptured, Left-Behind style. People were actually leaving cars in the roundabout in front of the school. When someone later had to be removed by ambulance, the person on the loudspeaker had to ask at least three times for cars to move out of the emergency vehicle's way.
Inside, the gym was a Kazahk airport. No lines, no order, just lots of blue signs screaming "Hillary" and "Obama" and glassy-eyed faces below. Many had arrived well before 5 pm. Registration was supposed to close at 6:30; I arrived at 6:50. People were still streaming around precinct maps and registration tables like so many drones in a hive. Voters hastilily filled out cards and pushed their way to registration officials to get counted.
When I finally found my precinct room, my room captain didn't even have a list of registered Democrats, so I had to re-register. I made it over to the floor just in time to get counted as an official voter. Then, more waiting until we could fan out and stand up for the candidate of our choice.
The woman on the loudspeaker in our room played dualing microphones with the overhead loudspeaker. Many precincts had to move rooms because they were too big. Someone in our room (precinct 23) had tried to create hospitality with cheese and crackers and potato chips. I missed the goodies; the empty carcasses littered tables, adding to the disheveled look of the room.
Finally, though, I was able to stand up for my candidate of choice and get counted. And that matters.
Despite my woozy-ness from flu and lack of food, it was a delight to see peoples' passion for the process. And the hope that things can be better in our nation. That we can stand up and ask for change. And that maybe, somehow, one of these candidates will listen to the voices of the people and advocate for the poor.
That's what I felt in the room that night: hope.
I was proud to be a part of the process.
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