Does God hate women?

Today's paper (4th Nov) tells of two grim tales. A Pakistani woman was doused in petrol and set on fire by her jilted lover. She was only 20. She refused his marriage proposal and the price she paid for it was her life. 50% of her body was burnt. She died yesterday morning from wounds infected.

Another tale is about stoning in Afghanistan. She was another young victim around 19 to 21. In a video recording, the young lady was seen stoned to death by religious Taliban men. Her crime? She was forced to marry someone much older than her against her will and she eloped with a man her age. It reports that she "can be heard repeating the shahada, or Muslim profession of faith, her voice growing increasingly high-pitched in the nearly 30-second clip."

Alas, the reality is this, misogyny is the world's oldest prejudice and the religion of men has been used against women for centuries. In the Biblical account of the creation of Adam, are women really an afterthought? Are they really the impure sex? Are they Pandora's daughters? The beautiful evil? Because life being a woman in some religiously straitjacketed countries - ruled by a form of self-righteous theocracy under a male-dominated holy groupthink - can be a living hell.

In the name of their gods, women suffered genitalia mutilation to preserve purity and wholeness, incarceration for revealing their ankles and nape of their neck, cruel torture and beatings for driving, talking to men and going out unaccompanied, repeated rape with absolute impunity, and unspeakable abuse, even death, in the name of honor.

Sometimes, driven to near insanity, one is tempted to ask: Does God hate women?

Lesson? I hold up three in earnest and hope.

1) God has nothing to do with it. Many will burn with anger with this statement. But the truth is, humanity will do what they want to do to satisfy their own lust for power, domination and control. They will use whatever that works - religion or otherwise - to perpetuate their fraud, their greed and their evil. We are not only social animals, we are also beasts of violence, and at the same time, priests of purity. The two asymmetrical roles, that is, beast and priest, work hand in glove in an enraptured shadow dance because they are joined as one by an egregious purpose that no words can describe.

Needlessly to say, God does not endorse their thoughts and actions but they are delusional enough to think otherwise. For Blaise Pascal has said it before and I will say it here: "Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction."

2) The culprit is identity, tribalism, dualism, and dehumanization. We as social animals seek a group identity; however perverse. When we find it, we congeal together as "tribal" blood is thicker than "outsider's" water. We then put on a veneer of religiosity to add inflammatory credence to our belief, creed and practice.

From there, it is about us versus them, in-group versus out-group, name of our god versus name of their gods. Dualism pits good against evil, but the problem is that evil and good are often used interchangeably as long as it suits the tribal leader's purpose of self-perpetuation.

With a core identity, tribalistic hunger, and dualistic justification, dehumanization of the others come almost second nature to men who are hell bent to make evil a divine decree from heaven above.

And...

3) Jonathan Swift once said: "We have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love one another." Notwithstanding the backhanded compliment, I choose to believe that only religion can tame our inner desires and lust and redeem us once again.

For example, the narratives in the Bible are all about reconciliation, restoration and redemption. Sure, wars and carnage are aplenty but that is because we confront ourselves by confronting our most depraved thoughts and actions. The Word doesn't do cosmetic/superficial changes.

The Bible is true to form and substance. In its form, humanity can do unspeakable evil. But in substance, they can perform the greatest act of kindness, love, sacrifice and repentance. The bridge between them is the Biblical narrative's conclusions, that is, when Isaac and Ishmael made peace at their father's funeral, when Esau and Jacob reconciled in the end, when Joseph and his brothers (and father) were united, when David repented, when Jesus' disciples sacrificed their lives, and most of all, when God himself was crucified.

James Arthur Baldwin once said, "I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain." And after the pain, I sincerely believe, comes a heart of brokenness, contrition, repentance, forgiveness, hope, strength and love.

Let me end with William Blake’s teaser, "Both read the Bible day and night, But thou read'st black where I read white." I guess the Bible remains unchanged. Its narrative speaks of love and of reconciliation when we have confronted the worst of our nature. But it's the human heart that needs changing. For our heart may be above all deceitful, but when wholly transformed, our selfless deeds will stun, amaze and inspire us all. Cheerz.

The sound of silence.

The Many Faces of Silence

Silence. The stony silence. The embarrassing silence. The pensive silence. The ominous silence. The awkward silence. The deafening silence. The pin-drop silence. The silence before a breakthrough. The silence that speaks volume. The silence that drowns all empty chatters. The inviting silence in a sleazy bar. The silence of abuse. The silence that uplifts. The silence of flight. The silence of depth. The silence that pauses. The silence that nudges. The silence that dodges. That pregnant pause. The silence of bated lust. The silence of an orgasmic choke. The silence of a sniper's kill. The silence of muted joy. The silence of neuron firings. The silence of sheer relief. The silence of hope and the silence of dread. The silence before birth and the silence after one’s last breath. The silence that draws out an infinity and the silence in a blink of an eye.

Silence. That culprit of thought. That soundless shame. That look of shock. That word without a name. That name without a word. That soulless void. That vacant stare of horror. That gasp for life. That peril of self-unraveling. That whisperer of truth. That accuser of self. That leavening of remorse. That uncomfortable gap that needs to be filled by noise. That noiseless provocation. That stare of vengeance. That dead calm.

Silence. That ashram of meditation. That evoker of imageries. That darkness before the light. That light at the end of the tunnel. That wormhole of imagination. That flash of creativity. That nurturer of dreams.

Silence. That haven where our pain takes refuge. That wellspring of optimism. That window of wonders. That heave before the winning stroke. That bridge to our unconscious. That place between empty spaces. That cradle of unhurried peace. That imprimatur of contentment. That crossroad of life-changing choices. That meeting of minds. That nick of time.

Silence is all that and more. It has a dark side and a sublime side. It is the fount of knowledge as well as the face of destruction. Silence is the key that unlocks the darkness of our soul and it is also the lock that keeps it all under control.

We cannot bear the drag of pin-drop silence because we are conditioned to embrace noise. We are immersed in a bombardment of sensory overload – all of which clamor for our limited attention. We equate silence with suspicion, fear and loneliness. We run from silence and are drawn towards soulless noise.

But silence compels us to confront ourselves and noise is the excuse we need to hide from it. We grow when we embrace silence but wastes away when we take the fugitive’s path, seeking an escape, a distraction, a quick-fix, a surrogate peace, a mirage of hope.

Silence, like words, communicates. It relates. It interacts within and without. It mediates between our soul and our world. While noise is overrated, silence is underrated. For a pause in time is a gain in perspective. And a gain in perspective is a step forward in time, resolution and closure.

In all this, silence is the pause that God fills in a prayer. And the world of noise cannot exist, or even start to exist, without silence. For silence precedes the creation of time. And in the beginning of it all, it took silence to give birth to noise. It existed in soundless thought before it became a burst of infinite activities. And silence cradles all life-forms directly from the breath of the divine.  For it is written: Be still my soul and know that He is God. Indeed He is, has been and will always be. I humbly stand in awe. I embrace the hushed silence in the shadows of His emerging light. Cheerz.

Happy B'day Joy (5 years old).

When you come to read this, you should be sixteen. It would be 11 years from now. By then, you’ll know intimately what I mean when I say "I love you." To be honest, I can't forget your look to me now when I say those words. Being only 5, your response is as varied as the stars.

Sometimes, you would smile at me when I say "I love you". I really don't know what is going on in that little tiny brain of yours when you throw me that most disarming smile. Other times, you would be too preoccupied with your playtime to pay daddy any attention. That's perfectly fine with me because you were just being your adorable self and I’d have it no other way.

Still at other times, you would pause and look at me after my affectionate declaration and give me an unexpected embrace. The latter response always melts my heart. It’s a moment of depth and high all at one go for me. And it is also magical because that brief embrace seems to bring time to a halt. In that defining moment, I lose myself in your little tiny body of contact. I feel safe, validated, worthy, whole, complete, and fulfilled in your squeeze. That's how reassuring your hug is to me.

You see, I can be the busiest father on earth where everything is spinning out of control, but that pause, that look and that embrace would freeze everything in its place - in suspended animation - while I savor the moment and experience a paradigm shift in perspective and thought. Somehow the values I hold dear in this world take a relativistic spin and I am instantly reminded of what is truly important, enduringly valued, and intimately treasured.

My dear, that's the spellbinding hold you have on me. That's our unbreakable connection, our spirited bond that cannot be exchanged for gold, silver or bitcoin. It’s just priceless. And I want you to know that. I want you to know the impact you have on me, your smitten dad. But I guess at 5, my wish may just be a tad too ambitious. Instead, I would be contented if you just squeeze me a little longer and then return to your playtime. The result would be equally magical for me.

Having said that, I still harbor this hope that when you grow older, say 16, you’ll be able to read this love note and appreciate what an enduring transformation you have been in my life. It is a life that couldn’t be any fuller with your presence in it.

My dear Joy, you may be my daughter and I your father, but when it comes to growth and maturity, I want you to know that the effect is mutual. It's a two-way street, that is, I grow just as much as when I watch you grow under my care, love and nurture; if not more. I cannot help but grow in my humanity as I watch you grow in yours.

Our relationship is special not just because we are genetically linked but we are also kindred spirits. Our souls are connected and your joy is mine and your pain is even more so for me. I feel everything you feel even if you do not fully appreciate those feelings you are having now. Your laughter goes deep into my soul. You tears burn long in my heart. Your playfulness winds up my spirit. Even your anger - in its own childish ways - leaves an endearing aftermath.

If Achilles’ heel is his weakness, then you are mine. My heart has a secret chamber for you that is shared with none other. And I am forever changed because you have come into my life. My world is kinder, brighter, deeper, bigger and livelier because of you. So happy birthday Joy, daddy's hope, love, resilience and endless joy. Cheerz.

Den of thieves!

I read Matthew 21:12 last night and asked myself: What lessons can I learn from it? Would Jesus do the same to our churches today? 

You would recall that Jesus entered the Temple and he began to drive out all the people buying and selling animals for sacrifice. It was definitely not a courtesy house-call. Neither a MP-like visit. If there were ever a time that you’d witness Jesus losing his divine coolness, this was it. He was mad; some might even find him stark raving mad. He went completely ballistic. His anger turned physical. He even knocked over the tables of the money-changers and the chairs of those selling doves. 


Then, after the trail of wrecked-ball mess, he calmed down and gave the reason: “The Scriptures declare, ‘My Temple will be called a house of prayer,’ but you have turned it into a den of thieves!” My question is this: Is there a modern-day equivalent for us where our leaders have sneaked in worldly practices/culture into our churches and turned the house of prayer into a den of thieves? 

Here I am reminded of these word by Pastor Charles Swindoll in his book Church Awakening: “The Church is a body of people called out from the world for the distinct and unique purpose of glorifying their Savior and Lord. Nowhere in the book of Acts or the Epistles do we see a church called to provide a subculture for non-believers. The lost don't need to find at church a world that’s like their world outside the church. The church is not competing with the world. Jesus is not a brand.” (Of course, there is no perfect church and should you find one, please pack up and run away from it. Most likely, it’s a cult of some sort). 

I guess Jesus was not called to minister to a perfect church either for he did not come for the well, but for the sick. He was simply looking for a broken church, made up of broken lives seeking restoration, healing and deliverance. In other words, he was looking for repentant worshippers, earnest seekers of the truth. 

With Jesus, things are actually that simple. He is wholly transparent. He does not serve up embellished truth laden with dos-and-don’ts or brimming with too-good-to-be-true promises. On the contrary, he imparts practical and powerful life-transforming lessons written in layman languages. He therefore does not promise a life of roses and balmy smooth sailing, but he promises something far more redeeming and empowering, that is, an overcoming life that grows with every adversity. That is why after he drove the profiteering priests and religious teachers out of the Temple, he immediately call out to the blind, the crippled and the lame and he healed them all.
 He dealt directly and specifically with the issue or the heart of the matter. 

Jesus knew that he was not running a popularity contest or giving a prosperity pitch. He did not tell them that following him would mean that they would become prosperity-magnets. Every one of his disciples knew the cost. And everyone of them paid the highest price for following him. You see, Jesus did not point his disciples to the narrow road just because an easy and rich life awaits them. If anything, prosperity is merely incidental to the main cause and the same is readily dispensable to the faith. I believe that we are no richer if we have God and everything in this world or if we have God alone (a la CS Lewis). 

And Jesus did not tell his disciples that they must carry the Cross everyday just so that they will become famous one day and have a huge following of their own. Unfortunately, we as followers often mistake the tree (human leaders) for the forest (Jesus). A New Testament Professor Ernest Best put it this way, “Jesus points his disciples to God and himself walks the way of God, yet it is not possible to substitute another teacher for him; a pupil may move from one philosopher to another and a disciple from one rabbi to another but Christian cannot go to another leader. The disciple of the rabbi, if all goes well, becomes a rabbi: the pupil of the philosopher may equally become a philosopher and have his own pupils: disciples of Christ, however, never become Christs or have their own disciples.” This is a timely and urgent reminder for the leaders of our churches today. 

I guess when the first three Commandments talk about not making graven images or idols of God, it is also referring to not making idols of fallible human leaders by taking them as more than ambassadors or emissaries of Christ, but the final authority of God. The truth is that we are all disciples of Christ and will always remain his disciples for life. 

This humility posture is sadly often superseded by the pastoral ambitions. There is always a lurking danger when a leader crosses that line, even unknowingly, and entertains the idea that maybe he is somewhat more than just Christ’s disciples. Maybe, just maybe, he is especially (and exclusively) elected for such a time as this. And that his teachings - by reasons of his runaway popularity - are the only way, the only truth and the only guiding light when compared to the teachings of the other churches. 

This gradual personal elevation is a two-way endorsement when his church grows in numbers and his pride starts to dabble in subtle misattribution. This is also where the leader becomes increasingly paranoid, protective, defensive, even manipulative. Alas, the signs are often ignored or denied because the leader keeps telling himself and the church that he is just a humble broken vessel of God when in reality, he can’t help but be seen as (and even believed to be) far more than just a broken vessel. The misattribution is thus mutually reinforcing between the leader and his growing followers. 

Now going back to Jesus and the Temple, I believe that some  leaders are unwittingly becoming universal solvents for their churches. They are engaging in an alchemy-like melting exercise with the aim of syncretizing (or compromising) godly principles with worldly values just so as to cater to the multisensory demands of their members. In other words, they are turning their programs into seeker-sensitive services whereby this hidden mantra takes the effective lead: “There go my people, I must find out where they are going so I can lead them.” The priority is hopelessly muddled. 

In the end, the church runs the risk of becoming a self-therapy, leisure center, and not a place where the virtues, the narrative and the powers of the Cross are preached, imparted and duly applied. As such, personal conveniences ultimately take precedence over the sacrifices expected at Calvary in our walk with our personal Savior. 

I find no better ending here than to allow these words by pastor Steven J. Lawson to take us home: “As the church advances into the twenty-first century, the stress to produce booming ministries has never been greater. Influenced by corporate mergers, towering skyscrapers, and expanding economies, bigger is perceived as better, and nowhere is this “Wall Street” mentality more evident than in the church. 

Sad to say, pressure to produce bottomline results has led many ministries to sacrifice the centrality of biblical preaching on the altar of man-centered pragmatism…Admittedly pastors can learn from growing churches and successful ministries. Yet God’s work must be done God’s way if it is to know God’s blessing. He provides the power and He alone receives the glory only as His divinely prescribed plan for ministry is followed. 

When man-centered schemes are followed, often imitating the world’s schemes, the flesh provides the energy and man receives the glory…In a strange twist, the preaching of the cross is now foolishness, not only to the world but also to the contemporary church.” Cheerz.