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THESTUDENTWEEKLYSI NCE1 969
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R E L I G I O N I S S UE
I ns i de:Mor mons ,TheWol f man,andt heex i s t enc eofGod.
02.18.10 vol. xli, no. 15 The Indy investigates the spiritual in all its myriad forms. Co-Presidents Patricia Florescu ‘11 and Susan Zhu ‘11
Cover art by KAYLA ESCOBEDO
Editor-in-Chief Faith Zhang ‘11 News and Forum Editor Riva Riley ‘12
ARTS 3 The Wolfman 4 Good Without God SPORTS 5 Steve Young's Religion FORUM 6-7 Passover at Harvard Religious Trivia Christianity and the World Mormons: Fact and Fiction 8 Finding a Place at the Divinity School 9 Proofs Through the Ages 10 Growing up Hindu in Texas 11 Christianity at Harvard
Arts Editor Pelin Kivrak ‘11 Sports Editor Daniel Alfino ‘11 Graphics Editor Sonia Coman ‘11 Associate News and Forum Editor Weike Wang ‘11 Columnists Chris Carothers ‘11 Sam Barr ‘11 Staff Writers Peter Bacon ‘11 John Beatty ‘11 Ezgi Bereketli ‘12 Arhana Chattopadhyay ‘11 Andrew Coffman ‘12 Levi Dudte '11 Ray Duer ‘11 Sam Jack ‘11 Marion Liu ‘11 Hao Meng ‘11 Alfredo Montelongo ‘11 Nick Nehamas ‘11 Steven Rizoli ‘11 Jim Shirey ‘11 Diana Suen ‘11 Alex Thompson ‘11 Sanyee Yuan ‘12 Graphics, Photography, and Design Staff Chaima Bouhlel ‘11 Kayla Escobedo ‘12 Eva Liou ‘11 Rares Pamfil ‘10 Lidiya Petrova ‘11 Kristina Yee ‘10
For exclusive online content, visit www.harvardindependent.com
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As Harvard College's weekly undergraduate newsmagazine, the Harvard Independent provides in-depth, critical coverage of issues and events of interest to the Harvard College community. The Independent has no political affiliation, instead offering diverse commentary on news, arts, sports, and student life. For publication information and general inquiries, contact Presidents Patricia Florescu and Susan Zhu (president@harvardindependent.com). Letters to the Editor and comments regarding the content of the publication should be addressed to Editor-in-Chief Faith Zhang (editor@harvardindependent. com). Yearly mail subscriptions are available for $30, and semester-long subscriptions are available for $15. To purchase a subscription, email subscriptions@harvardindependent.com. The Harvard Independent is published weekly during the academic year, except during vacations, by The Harvard Independent, Inc., P.O. Box 382204, Cambridge, MA 02238-2204. Copyright © 2009 by The Harvard Independent. All rights reserved. 02.18.10 • The Harvard Independent
Arts
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Howling at the Moon Coming to terms with the beast within. By WEIKE WANG
T
Wolfman, directed by Joe Johnston, is not a bad movie, but it suffers from a serious lack of depth and perhaps dialogue. Given the hot mess that is Team Jacob and his abs, it was only a matter of time before brooding werewolf films surfaced to exploit a similar place in the guy world. I saw this movie with a girlfriend, and we were probably the only pair of girls in the theatre. Cutting to the chase, the movie is a food fight of limbs, guts, and fancy ketchup. Beneath the R-rated gore is a storyline — simple, predictable, but somehow no less terrifying due to an over-zealous music score and confounding CGI. Set in the moor country where night wins over day, the story opens to a full moon and the voice of a young woman named Gwen (Emily Blunt). She writes to a Mr. Lawrence Talbot (Benicio Del Toro), brother of her vanished fiancé, and implores him to return home after these many years to help search for the missing man. Something of a theatre star, Lawrence is conveniently introduced onstage holding Yorick’s skull — a rather heavy-handed metaphor for the tragic hero. He is touring England as Hamlet and is about to depart for the Americas when he receives Gwen’s letter. What are fame and fortune to family? And so, like the prodigal son, Lawrence returns home. Home is a derelict castle set on acres of untended weeds. Vein-like stains tarnish the bricks, and thick grime coats the windows. Inside is no different. Mounted lions guard the twisted stairway; furniture suffocates under dust, and rodent mischief abounds. Upon arrival, Lawrence learns from his father, Sir John Talbot (Anthony Hopkins), that it is too late: his brother has been found as a tangle of appendages with cause of death unknown. The troubled Lawrence mulls over possibilities in a tavern where weathered men spin gypsy yarn that something big and ugly roams these parks. Like any tragic hero seeking a quick end, Lawrence goes to the gypsy camp, provokes the beast ravaging the camp, and he
The Harvard Independent • 02.18.10
promptly gets bitten. The rest of the story unravels both forwards and backwards. In the forward sense, Lawrence transforms into wolf man with uncanny CGI realism; in the backward sense, he does his best to deal with a troubled childhood at the hands of his sinister father. Now, Sir John Talbot is an unreadable man and quite possibly the most interesting character of the lot. He speaks in roundabout riddles with an unsettling calm and a permanent smirk; he taunts, pokes, and prods as if life and death were just another game. The remaining characters, however, are thoroughly transparent. Lawrence plays the melancholy gentlemen: noble, disgruntled and tragically embroiled in the rapid decay of his family. Gwen acts the morally righteous love interest, a prim and proper silhouette in wellcut clothing. And Singh (Art Malik), the all-knowing manservant, has scenes so profound, one could almost figure out the film from his pauses. Scattered amongst the prominent characters are stereotypical religious nuts, quack doctors, and officers who are always a minute too late. But it is not the plot or really the characters that lures you into the film — it is the brilliant production set. Think thrashing grasslands, dank forests, and bottomless waterfalls. Think bleeding gravestones, walls that talk, and cheap mirror tricks. Think Fall of the House of Usher — but gloomier. The depravity of this place knows no bounds, for it is truly a land of full moons. My major quibble with the film is that it remains undercooked; such raw emotions deserve some polish now and then. The love story between Lawrence and Gwen could do with fewer grunts and starts and more actual words. I’m not asking for Jane Austen here, but I would just like to know why Gwen, who dresses like a nun, falls for a man with a major hygiene problem. Is it pity? A fetish? Also, what kind of consciousness pulses behind that furry mane? At times, he shows little restraint and just claws through bodies like butter; other times, he shows some restraint but then claws through anyway. What drives the
wolfman besides an insatiable thirst for destruction? I fear the answer is not much, which leads me to conclude that the movie is a bit too much wolf and not enough man. All in all, The Wolfman is a visual treat and a legitimate date movie. I have two theories as to why this came out on Valentine’s Day and not Halloween. First, it will make couples cuddle through their fear. The audience does not coo with you;
the wolfman is not fluffy and cute. In the first five minutes, the girl in front of me ricocheted backwards and was poised to flip over had her boyfriend not checked her; they remained knotted for the remainder of the film. Second, it will make you appreciate your mate, for he will appear far less hairy in comparison. Weike Wang '11 (wang40@fas) doesn't go for the hirsute look.
THE WOLFMAN now playing in theaters nationwide editor@harvardindependent.com
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Arts
Modern Idols:
Religion and Society Today a column by CHRIS CAROTHERS
This week: Greg Epstein’s Good Without God.
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ll good things come in threes,
as the old saying goes. Sure enough, the recent crop of books about religion by atheists and religious skeptics comes in three varieties. The most popular kind is militant, media-friendly, and openly hostile to religion. The god-spanking diatribes from Dawkins, Hitchens, and Harris fit in this category. A second kind is analytical rather than judgmental. These books use evolutionary science or historical research to explain religion as a social phenomenon. For example, The Evolution of God by Robert Wright gives a secular history of Jewish and Muslim mythology without calling religion useless or dangerous. Staking out a position between these two types is a bolder third — calls for alternatives to religion. Greg Epstein’s Good Without God is such a book. Neither an attack on religion nor an explanation of it, it is a call for a morally healthy replacement. Like Dawkins, Epstein is an unbeliever passionately committed to the truth. But Epstein also believes, like Wright, that religious communities create good moral behavior. Epstein champions Humanism as the philosophy (or lifestance, as he prefers) that can satisfy both humanity’s desire for truth and its need for compassion. Epstein’s advocacy of Humanism is calm and strong. His argumentative prose possesses all the force of antagonistic atheists like Dawkins and Hitchens as well as the subtlety they lack. If their weapon of choice against religion is sarcasm, his is polite dissent. He strives to love his enemies, and bends over backward to disagree respectfully with Christians who would damn him to hell. Epstein’s style seems especially appropriate given the moral path he proposes to illuminate between the religious and the nonreligious. The emphasis of the Humanist, he writes, is on goodness, not on “without God.” He rejects the morality of religious absolutists and godless nihilists alike. Epstein believes that goodness should arise neither from the believer’s dependence on magical spirits nor from the atheist’s lonely mantra of self-reliance. Humans don’t need gods to dictate their morality, but neither can they create meaningful morals as individuals. Respectfully 4
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resisting both sides of the religious morality debate, Epstein argues for a different approach. Epstein’s cogent and wellarticulated Humanist positions dispel the reflexive view of some atheists that Humanism is merely a salad bar of vague liberal values. Humanism, “in a nutshell,” means “recognizing the difference between magic and reality, then bringing people together to help each other get on with the work of growing and building.” More specifically, Epstein describes Humanism as an ethical system focused on promoting human dignity and preventing needless suffering. By human dignity, he means the common understanding that not only we are human in our feelings, needs, and thoughts, but that we share this humanity with others who deserve the same love we do. Humans are neither magical creations of intrinsic value nor empty nihilistic vessels. The purpose of life is therefore neither pure selflessness nor pure selfishness. Only as part of communities marked by genuine connectedness and moral purpose can we achieve human dignity and alleviate suffering. In one of the book’s strongest moments, Epstein challenges nonbelievers to organize and work toward their goals. If atheists are serious about their quest to loosen the chokehold religion has on people’s minds and our country’s politics, Epstein argues, they must address the emotional needs that cause people to turn to religion in the first place. Epstein rightly explains that neither poor logic nor sheer gullibility impels thinking people to embrace religion — it is instead the emotional need for a moral community, fulfilling rituals, and a shared culture. The more important half of religion, Epstein suggests, is not faith, but practice. Atheists can debunk nonsensical religious claims until hell freezes over without making the slightest progress in separating people who have a desire to believe from their religion. Epstein hopes to enlist atheists in the secular community building of Humanism as the better way forward. The typical response of atheists to Epstein’s brand of Humanism, as Epstein himself acknowledges, is to attack it as crypto-religious. Are
they right? It depends, of course, on what one means by religious. Epstein says that Humanism lacks the supernatural elements usually associated with religion, but does produce the ritual and culture that religion has traditionally provided. Atheists who object to those elements of organized religion will naturally resist Humanism as well. My chief objection is not to the creation of ritual or culture, but instead to the particular interpretation of “goodness” that Epstein proposes as Humanist. For example, Epstein relies heavily in his moral stance on the golden rule. Appealing though it may be, not to mention ubiquitous in religion, the golden rule is riddled with problems of application and basic logic. The golden rule tells people to treat others as they would wish to be treated. Generally, I wish others well. But if they do not wish me well, should I treat them well at my own expense? And if I truly wish myself well, should I not treat my enemies badly? Epstein would say I should treat them well because “winners don’t punish.” Really? Epstein cites the example of the United States helping Japan and Germany to rebuild after World War II, ignoring the fact that this cooperation came after massive US punishment for Pearl Harbor. The US, like most powerful actors, achieves its power via a mixed strategy of cooperation and selective punishment. People who never punish others simply get walked all over. Sorry, Jesus, but you are a good case in point. If someone’s values are bad, no clever rule or logic test will improve moral behavior. Consider that our beloved government’s legal system rests on systematic violation of the golden rule. It punishes people in ways we would not wish to be punished. I gladly send convicted criminals to jail, but do not wish them to put me there! One might reply to this by saying that one would accept punishment as right if one had committed a crime. Notice, however, that this logic justifies punishing people in many despicable ways, so long as they correspond to our values. For example, a member of the Taliban might use the golden rule thus: “If I ever commit such a horrible anti-Islamic thing as a homosexual act, I hope society will punish me.
Therefore, by the golden rule, I will punish homosexuality in others.” The golden rule also produces serious logical inconsistencies. I can, for example, create a paradox by desiring others to treat me better than they would if they used the golden rule. By the golden rule, I would therefore have to treat them better than the golden rule justifies! Another, more obvious, logical inconsistency in the golden rule occurs because human actions affect many people at the same time. What if an action necessary to fulfill the golden rule toward one person violates the standard with respect to someone else? Epstein says that Palestinian suicide bombers ignore the golden rule as they ponder their Israeli targets. Indeed. Of course, what they are more likely pondering is how well their self-sacrifice will protect their families. And by the golden rule they should, because they would want their family to do the same for them. Nevertheless, Epstein’s Humanism, while dependent on the golden rule, also goes beyond it. To provide more detailed Humanist moral stances, Epstein addresses gay rights, environmental sustainability, and materialism. He even produces a fascinating Humanist commentary on the Ten Commandments. These moral positions are bolstered by constructive proposals for how to integrate Humanist teachings into modern life. Epstein explains, for example, how a Humanist funeral might better serve people’s emotional needs than a traditional religious one. These suggestions are largely thoughtful and practical. One need not be a Humanist to see their value. Humanists “must be known for their actions.” Whatever one’s disagreements with the Humanist lifestance, all who can in good conscience act alongside Humanists for the greater good of society are called to action. Epstein welcomes all who feel they should be good without God. Even atheists who take serious issue with Epstein’s views on morality can appreciate the power of a compassionate, organized alternative to religion to speak out for social change. Ultimately, this intelligent and moving book is an invitation to Humanism that all free thinkers should seriously consider. 02.18.10 • The Harvard Independent
Sports
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Young: Religion, Nice Guys Steve football, and being (Don't) Finish generally awesome. Last By COLLEEN BERRYESSA
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t should come as no surprise to
anyone that I’m about to again proclaim my love of the San Francisco 49ers. How do I love them? Let me count the ways. I love the Niners like peanut butter loves jelly, like a monkey loves bananas, like Kanye West loves the spotlight, like Britney loves a good comeback — yes, it runs that deep. As a diehard Niner fan, apart from crying myself to sleep over the last handful of seasons, I worship our classic players and the turf they walk on, fake or not. One of these players is the great Steve Young, who has a very special relationship with my family. My mom sat next to him at a Warrior’s basketball game in the ‘90s — she still talks about it to this day, and who can blame her? And as I said in my last article, my dad dressed me up as Steve Young for Halloween when I was six (yes, I have pictures). Yes, we’re obviously very tight with the Youngs. And aside from being generally awesome as well as a hall-of-fame quarterback who won ’95 Super Bowl, and having the highest QB career passer rating of all time (96.8 — those were the days), Steve Young is also known for his dedication and fervor off the field— to his religion. And he’s just generally a really good guy. You look at the league now, and it seems to be filled with players like Michael Vick and Ray Lewis (shudder). And O.J. Don’t even get me started on O.J. It’s not that often that you find a professional athlete that is so connected and dedicated to his religion, while at the same time remaining a man with his own convictions. Steve Young is the great-greatgreat-grandson of the early Mormon prophet Brigham Young, and he attended Brigham Young University, where he was an all-American quarterback. He was raised to work hard and overcome obstacles. His work ethic comes from his father, “Grit” — if your father was nicknamed “Grit,” you’d be tough too. This work ethic in addition to his natural talent enabled him to succeed at Brigham Young and with the Niners, after several years of being with the lowly (at the time) Bucs. He exhibited exemplary behavior in the league, being labeled, for a lack of a better phrase, a “goody-twoshoes,” and he was constantly teased by other players. For instance, strict The Harvard Independent • 02.18.10
Mormons wear special underwear, and Steve Young wore them even when he played football. Young was also very vocal during his football career that he would only marry a Mormon, and in fact, the woman he did marry in 2000 converted to the Church of Later Day Saints. Steve Young played on Sundays, even though he recognized he was playing on the Sabbath, as the church recognizes it. Yes, Young was, because of whom he is, a very high profile Mormon during his time in the league, and he got a lot of press for it. But he was generally quiet about his personal life. And did his religion affect his ability to play football whatsoever? No, it did not. Steve Young has always been a clean-cut and an all-around good guy (sorry, ladies, he’s taken ladies), and he is one the greatest players ever. Why, then, did the media constantly discuss his strong religious beliefs during his time in the league? How did it affect the league at all? I think it’s because Steve Young is neither a Michael Vick nor a Ray Lewis — and thank God for that. The way superstars in professional sports act today is so skewed that when a nice, normal guy does well, and doesn’t have skeletons hanging in his closet (just special underwear), we ask what’s wrong with him. We’re too used to professional athletes, especially football and basketball players, acting like complete scumbags. To the media and the outside world, Steve Young was something of an oddity: he loved the game and he loved his religion, and that was it. There were no drunken bar fights, or dozen mistresses, or guns in the locker room (thanks for that, Arenas). He just played the game he was good at and lived a relatively normal life. Recently, the media has jumped on Steve Young again because of his high profile Mormon status. They have said that he defied his church on the gay marriage issue. In 2008, Steve Young and his wife Barbara posted yard signs in front of their Palo Alto home to vote no on Proposition 8, the California state ballot measure that banned same-sex marriage. The Young family donated $50,000 to defeat the measure, and he said in a statement that the family did not believe in prejudice, and “therefore our family will vote
against Prop. 8.” It was a personal decision, for which the San Francisco media jumped on Young and portrayed the matter as a complete about-face from his religion. Why was it such a big deal that Young didn’t support Prop. 8? In fact, it should not have been. Young supported what he believed, and the mere fact that he is football legend Steve Young and he is Mormon put him in the media spotlight. If there was a problem with the Mormon position on gay marriage, it should have been directed at the church, not by using Young’s personal position as a catalyst. That’s what the media does — they love to take sports stars, movie stars, and other famous people and build them up, and then knock them right back down again. Some celebrities do a good job at knocking themselves down (Lindsay Lohan,
for starters), but the media does a thorough job of scrutinizing even the greatest of guys, like Steve Young, about personal issues like religion. I guess what I’m saying is that nothing is sacred anymore in the world of sports — you can be a Michael Vick or you can be a Steve Young, but either way, you’re going to be dissected by the media for what you’ve done (or who you may have killed, in Lewis’ and O.J.’s cases) or for your religious beliefs, and how you act. And with that, go Niners! They’ve been saying that 2011 may be our year…. to at least make the post-season. Hey, I say, you’ve got to take minor victories where you can get them. Colleen Berryessa ’11 (cmberry@fas) is not above scrutinizing some sports herself.
editor@harvardindependent.com
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An AEPi Passover Adapting old customs to the modern era.
P
RELIGIOUS REALITIES
assover (or pesach, as we call it) is
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coming up in a bit over a month, making this a perfect occasion indeed to write about Jewishness. Just around this time last year I pledged Harvard’s chapter of Alpha Epsilon Pi, a national Jewish fraternity. The night I passed my pledge exam happened to also be the second night of Passover, which Jews honor with the second seder (ritual feast). The night before that I had enjoyed a wonderful traditional seder at home, where we read the Haggadah (story of Passover) in Hebrew, as my parents are immigrants of traditional Jewish upbringing. That evening my fraternity brothers and I gathered in a dorm room in the Quad, a land nearly as far away as the Sinai, though not nearly as dry. As I glared down at the seder table before us, I knew that night would be different from all other nights. The symbolic bitter herbs (maror), typically horseradish, had been substituted for by a piece of ginger, unorthodox by any standard. There was no egg, but there was a chicken bone (z’roa) and way too many jugs of delicious Manischewitz wine, not a drop of which would remain by night’s end. We settled into our seats and reclined, but where were the Haggadot? Our Master at the time pulled out a loosely stapled packet of printed pages and announced, “So a few years back some of the guys typed up their own version of the Haggadah, so I guess we’ll just use that.” The packet was formatted like a script, the characters had modern names like Dan and Mike, and there was no Hebrew to be
By RONNEN CRETU
found. I sat silently dumbfounded; “What the heck are these?” I asked myself. Perhaps the most important segment of the seder is the recitation of the Four Questions by the youngest person present. The youngest guy was one of my pledge brothers, a Jew of reform religious upbringing. He read the questions smoothly from transliterated Hebrew, like a good bar-mitzvah’ed boy ought to, but he didn’t know the tune, and I needed to hear the tune. We continued to read the script aloud in turn, taking breaks to nibble on matzah and sip wine, drifting past buzzed to tipsy, and slowly to drunk. It was 1 am, and most of us grabbed the shuttle to get back to the river. We hadn’t sung songs as we always did back home; granted, my mom had always been the only one who really knew the tunes. I called my mom the following afternoon, and, of course, I told her all about our second night of Passover. As we chatted I realized those alumni had done a pretty good job adapting the story of Passover with their modern Haggadah. We hadn’t done things like at home. But home was one thing and this was another. We had worn our kippot (head coverings), we had set out a seder plate, and we had recited the blessings as best as we could. It was exactly what it was supposed to be: a bunch of Jewish college guys gathered on that night to honor our ancestors, to celebrate a piece of our history, to not let our heritage take a back seat. Moses would have been proud. Ronnen Cretu ’11 (rjcretu@fas) thoroughly enjoyed his Manischewitz.
Religion Trivia
By CHRIS CAROTHERS
1. Operation Snow White was a secret plan to infiltrate the US government by the leaders of which religion? 2. What are the five registered religions in the People’s Republic of China? 3. Religious authorities in which country recently banned yoga due to the pernicious “Hindu influences”? 4. Blasphemy recently became illegal in which Western European nation? 5. “These poisonous bitter worms should be stripped of their belongings and driven out of our country for all time.” To which religious group is Martin Luther (just Martin Luther, not MLK) referring? 6. Authorities in which small Asian nation arrested an astrologer for predicting the president’s downfall? 7. The bizarre beliefs of which country’s ruling class resulted in a dead person officially holding the position of Head of State? 8. How many US states still ban atheists from holding public office? 9. Rank the following religions in descending order by size: Judaism, Juche, Rastafarianism, Shinto, Mormonism. 10. Name the countries where gay marriage, not just civil unions, are legal.
02.18.10 • The Harvard Independent
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Waiting for the World to Change
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What Christianity is really all about.
ll Christians are conservatives.
They stick with the status quo, with ideas long proven false, with traditional, outmoded morality. They wonít change; they wonít grow; they wonít step out of their boxes ó narrow as coffins ó long enough to take a breath of fresh air. Political conservatism is just the beginning ó Christians want to keep the world exactly as it is, because to do otherwise would be to admit that their faith is a relic of the past, perhaps useful two thousand years ago but long overdue for replacement. These facts are apparent to everyone. They almost go without saying. Right? Look closer and you’ll see more clearly. It is no doubt true that countless Christians settle down into the world as it is now and get comfortable. Acquiescence is easier than change.
But stability is not the hope that is the heart of Christian faith. At the fulcrum of history, a man traveled around a remote outpost of the Roman Empire, telling people that a new kingdom was coming ó a kingdom where the sick would be healed and the grieving would be comforted, where the powerless would gain justice and the slaves would be free, where all the wrongs of this world would be righted. And he said that this new kingdom would only come when the power of God broke into the world ó beginning with his own resurrection from the dead, and coming to final fruition with his return in glory at the end of time. When Jesus sent his followers on their own journeys to spread the news about the coming kingdom, he told them to say that the kingdom of God was near ó and to heal the sick. They were to show
not change the fact that the Church’s official name is the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Belief in Jesus Christ as the Messiah and Redeemer of mankind is a central tenet of the faith. However, many Christians reject an association with Mormonism because Mormons also believe in The Book of Mormon. Myth: Mormons don’t believe in the Bible, either the New or the Old Testament. Fact: Having been brought up in the Mormon Church, I almost wish this were true — it would have saved me from hours of repetitive Sunday School lessons on the Bible. Mormons, however, believe very strongly in the commandments the Bible establishes for mankind. The King James Version is adhered to by the Mormon Church, but there have been several small but significant changes in the translation. These “corrections” are believed to have been made by God through the Church’s founder, Joseph Smith. Myth: Only Mormons are allowed to attend Mormon Churches. Fact: As fun as it
A reflection from The Ichthus, Harvard College’s journal of Christian thought and expression.
By ALEX THOMPSON
would be to be a member of some exclusive secret society, Mormonism makes a point of trying to convert as many people as possible, often by inviting them to church on Sundays. That’s why all those annoying guys in white shirts are always knocking on your doors — they want you to come to church. This confusion is often a result of the fact that Mormonism has both temples and churches. Churches are for weekly meetings, while temples are for sacred ordinances including marriages and baptisms for the dead. Anyone can enter a Mormon church, but you must be a worthy member and intending to get married or go on a Mormon mission in order to enter various parts of Mormon temples. Myth: A young man name Joseph Smith discovered golden plates with ancient writings on them buried on a mountain in upstate New York. This record documents an ancient American society and further describes Christ traveling and teaching
unconstitutional and unenforceable, so none of these laws are in effect, despite being on the books. 9. Juche, Judaism, Mormonism, Shinto, Rastafarianism 10. In order of legalization: The Netherlands 2001, Belgium 2003, Spain 2005, Canada 2005, South Africa 2006, Norway 2009, Sweden 2009
The Harvard Independent • 02.18.10
care for the wounded, and promote for justice and peace. Christians are heralds of another kingdom; we arenít out to preserve this one. So by all means, criticize modern Christians for losing sight of their hope and descending into partisanship and political machination. Likewise, criticize modern Christians for attitudes of insular isolation and apathy. We ought to receive such criticism thoughtfully and graciously. But do not criticize Jesus or his teachings, Christianity qua Christianity, because they are of an altogether different sort; truly worldchanging, truly life-transforming, truly (in the only important sense of the word) un-conservative.
that people after being resurrected. Finally, Mormons believe Joseph Smith translated these tablets through the power of God, resulting in The Book of Mormon. Fact: All right, the last one is completely true. It is at this point where many people begin to believe Mormonism is a little absurd. I myself have continually struggled with my own faith, but I strongly believe, and I think most people do, that most Mormons are some of the kindest, most sincere people one can meet. While there are definitely some seemingly crazy things about this Church, there is definitely something special about its members and the beliefs they adhere to. Alex Thompson '11 (athomps@fas) says you should stay in school and don't do drugs…you know, ‘cause The Book of Mormon says so'.
Answers to the Religion Quiz: 1. Scientology. 2. Buddhism, Daoism, Islam, Protestantism, and Catholicism. 3.Malaysia 4. Ireland, last summer. 5. Jews. People always guess it’s Catholics. It can’t be Catholics, if you think about it. 6.Sri Lanka. 7. North Korea. Kim Il-Sung is Head of State. 8. At least six as of 2009: Arkansas, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, and Maryland. Torcaso v. Watkins, a US Supreme Court ruling in 1961, ruled that all such state provisions
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yth: Mormons secretly practice polygamy in the United States backcountry, like we see on Big Love. Fact: A minority of male Mormons, often high-ranking Church officials, did practice polygamy — come on guys, don’t tell me you aren’t jealous — in the 19th century. This practiced ended shortly after the Supreme Court ruled polygamy was not protected under the First Amendment. Myth: Mormons absolutely, positively, definitely, and unequivocally cannot ever ever have caffeine. If you see a Mormon even looking at a Coca-Cola bottle, they might as well be an unmarried Mormon buying condoms — you know, since Mormonism prohibits premarital sex. Fact: The Mormon Church expressly forbids drinking coffee and tea, while also banning any substance in excess. The Church discourages consuming large amounts of caffeine, but there is no specific rule concerning it. Myth: Mormons are not Christians. They’re just weird. Fact: Okay, on the face of it, Mormons are a little strange, but that does
By THE STAFF OF THE ICHTHUS
people what this new kingdom would be like, by living as if it had already come ó as if they already lived in a time when sickness was no more, and death was abolished. And that is how Christians must live today. We are already citizens of the kingdom of God; we cannot live as though we are trapped by the layered strictures of the world as it is. Christians arenít conservatives. Christians ó real Christians, Biblebelieving Christians, your nextdoor Christians ó are the only real revolutionaries. We believe in a total restructuring of reality, an insideout, upside-down contortion that places God above everything else and returns man to his rightful place, paradoxically lowly and exalted. Until our Lord returns and heals all the hurts of this world, we work our hardest to protect the helpless,
Setting the Record Straight Myths regarding Mormonism.
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To Veil, or Not to Veil? L
H arvard ’ s M aster of D ivinity began with a seminar churning the following prompts: “What is ministry? Who is the minister? What is the context of ministry?” A glimpse at institutional history belies that until the middle of the 20th century, these questions applied to the appurtenance of Christian men. Yet Harvard Divinity School has extended its enrollment invitation to women and is expanding its offering to other traditions; my presence at the school is a testament to both. The Masters of Divinity program incorporates field placements at religious institutions, service organizations, and a range of comparable settings wherein students relate their academic studies to the experiences, considering the questions of community constitution and dynamics. I am discovering that as a woman engaged in a religious community that explicitly assigns social leadership roles in terms of gender, a question of continual interest to me is this one: “From where is a leader’s authority derived?” Certainly, in the Divinity School environment, many students are intent on examining the discourse and praxis within their own religious communities, and a number of my colleagues are thinking about how their gender, sexual orientation, or race influences their prospects for religious leadership. As a nascent professional with restricted options compared to my male counterparts, I ask myself: “In the American context, should I contend with disparate expectations for cross-gender relations when I walk into a religious setting? If I am training for religious leadership, then who am I leading according to the dominant paradigm? Women and children?” Hibba Abugideiri, for one, wrestles with a similar question. She writes in Muslim World: “Is there a difference between Islamic leadership and female Islamic leadership? When we speak of Islamic leadership and female Islamic leadership, are we speaking in dichotomous terms, as though the first expression denotes a male bastion of activity and the second a leadership exclusively for females? Is Islamic leadership, in short, gendered?” My own interests begin out of rather simple aspects of praxis: “Should I shake, or to refuse to shake the hand of a male in greeting; do I veil, or do I not veil — what do I veil; why do I stand in the back or the basement or the balcony of the prayer hall?” Such questions are part and parcel of professional discernment in tangible ways, but perhaps more interestingly they also give rise to interdisciplinary academic inquiries. For instance, consider this proposition illustrating how religious praxis quickly becomes material for interdisciplinary dialogue: “Given that developments in neuroscience have shed doubts on the conception of two distinct sexes, what 8
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implications could this insight have on genderedaspects of religious praxis?” For scholars of religion and many practitioners, it is a truism that lived religion must be responsive to changes in general public perceptions of the world in order to stay relevant and palpable. Thus, the calling of a leader becomes navigating changing contexts in an ethical manner. In the process, one (should) constantly examine presuppositions and recognize the multiplicity and evolving dimensions of personal truths. In a related context, veiling is a conundrum that illustrates how questions of gender and religious praxis are quite idiosyncratic, and yet related to other spheres like history and politics. Naturally, veiling is a much-discussed topic in academic and popular discourse, and I have many-a-time fielded questions about veiling on public forums, read Islamic scripture and legal literature, and had lengthily discussions with other Muslims. From my personal investigation, veiling tends to be most appropriately understood as a manifestation of the patriarchal compulsions to control women’s bodies as a result of a parochial obsession define the parameters of allegiance to familiar, ethnic, national and religious communities; in short, veiling is often associated with a certain politic. From the historical lens, veils were symbols of aristocracy adorned by adherents of an array of religions across a vast geopolitical complex and often a luxury forcibly denied to women of working-class or slave standing. Even for the Sonia Coman/INDEPENDENT
Reflections on a woman’s vocational calling By CELENE AYAT LIZZIO
most esteemed of Muslim jurists who are still esteemed today, free women of standing and slave concubines were mandated to veil, but others were not. From another angle suggestive of androcentrism, hijab has become is the common term for a headscarf, and yet the Quran speaks of hijab as a metaphorical curtain separating human consciousness from accessing ultimate Truth. “How then does hijab in dominant Muslim traditions become something on a woman’s head?” It is certainly a question worth investigating. Such a topic is necessarily complicated, but despite my having fairly clear sentiments about veiling requirements within mainstream Muslim ethical-legal discourse, in public I still cover my hair and neck in a customary manner and often wear the long cloak associated with the dress of Muslim females, particularly in the Middle East. I am fully aware of the contradictions in my views, but as an Anglo-American, the headscarf makes me readily identifiable as someone of Muslim affiliation--except for in the New England winter, when I probably just look like someone trying to keep warm! For a simple illustration of the way I view the benefits in being identifiable, I feel a deep joy in recognizing other Muslims in public places and exchanging a warm greeting—peace be upon you. I also like not having to give much thought to how my body will fit the latest fashion, or how attractive I fare compared with the next person; thankfully these matters have lost potency as a result of turning the conception of self inward, on character rather than on externalities. This is a rough sketch of one approach for reconciling the contradictions between veiling as a mainstream religious mandate, and veiling as something that I — on the whole — enjoy. The caveat is that this reconciliation is wholly contextual, such that were I to find myself forcibly veiled, or forcibly unveiled, no doubt my take on the matter would shift. As a student of religions and “leader” in training, I could have a role to play in debates, internal and external to the Muslim community, over what is or is not “Islamic.” However, the questions that I am asking in this regard are also echoed in the voices of adherents to other religious and non-religious communities. Put simply, the essence of the question goes something like this, and it is one for us all to consider: “How can we celebrate the best of our heritages, just as we seek to address and remedy past exclusions and injustices, and where will we find an impetus to consider more enthusiastically the value of a representative, integrated and equitable vision of community where one could be lagging?” Celene Ayat Lizzio is a Masters of Divinity candidate in Islamic Ministry at Harvard Divinity School. 02.18.10 • The Harvard Independent
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The Impossible Dream Three tries at proving the existence of God. By LESTER KIM
I
t has been said that it is impossible to prove or
disprove the existence of God (or any other deity, for that matter). Nevertheless, many theists have tried to concoct proofs for why God must exist. (The reason for this is somewhat obvious. If I tell you that the ghost of John Harvard lives in my closet, you would only believe me if I provide you with a reasonable argument for such a claim. You cannot disprove my claim, but you don’t have to in order to justify your disbelief. The burden of proof rests on my shoulders.) Let us evaluate the three most popular philosophical arguments for God’s existence: the ontological, cosmological, and teleological arguments. For each, we shall emphasize its strengths and weaknesses. Just to be clear, when we refer to “God” in this article, we are not concerned with a celestial being that listens to prayers, sends prophets, demands sacrifices, or influences people to write holy texts. We are concerned with what is often referred to as “the philosopher’s God.” This God is a creator god that is omnipotent and omniscient. It may or may not be concerned with human affairs or have some desire to frequently and arbitrarily defy the laws of physics. It is also not necessarily a god of unconditional love or judgment. If it helps, you can think of this god as the Deists’ God, who created the universe and let it run on its own after some point in the past. We will begin with the ontological argument formulated by St. Anselm, an Italian monk who lived in the 11th century C.E. His argument went as follows: 1. Anything that exists within our understanding (in our minds) has a greater existence in reality. For example, you can understand what an apple is in your mind; an apple is a fruit that is sweet and can be some mixture of red, green, and yellow. A real apple (meaning it has its own physical existence in reality) has a greater existence; it is redder or greener, sweeter, and more solid and vivid than the imaginary one that we visualize in our minds. 2. God is the greatest, most infinitely perfect being in the universe. 3. You can conceive of such a being within your mind. 4. Therefore, God must have an even greater existence in reality. The first statement does seem convincing upon a cursory reading. However, the claim quickly falls apart if you replace the apple with a unicorn. You may have seen a picture of a unicorn and used that image to create a three-dimensional visualization of it, but the fact that you can imagine it does not mean that such a unicorn must exist in reality. Guanilo of Marmoutiers, a French Benedictine monk who also lived in the 11th century C.E, realized that the third step of the argument is flawed. He argued that you cannot conceive of an infinitely perfect being. What does it even mean for a being to be infinitely perfect and be the greatest? The cosmological argument has several variants, but they all boil down to the question of causality. Everything that we observe in the universe is the The Harvard Independent • 02.18.10
effect of some cause. You exist because your mother gave birth to you, which was caused by her having sex with your biological father; they were caused by their parents who were caused by theirs, and so on until reach the point when life first began on Earth. Life on our planet arose from the combination of water, solar energy, and other elements on Earth such as carbon, all of which can be traced back to the Big Bang. At some point, the causal chain must end with the uncaused cause (also known as the Unmoved Mover) which is God. This reasoning seems feasible. Everything has a cause, but if the causal chain is infinite, it is uncertain whether this chain has a solid basis, thus creating a question as to the stability of all the effects (which would be every link in the chain). However, you can challenge the claim that the chain must be finite. Our brains have evolved to help us survive within a time frame of only about 40 million years, long after the origin of the universe. That you cannot logically comprehend how the universe may be build on an infinite chain does not rule out the possibility that it is. Another problem with the cosmological argument is that God could be defined as the Big Bang, or some agent that triggered it. How does it follow that God must be intelligent or even sentient? Does it even follow that this agent still exists? Also, if it is possible for something to be an uncaused cause, why can’t we simply say that the Big Bang caused itself? The whole universe could be uncaused. Despite its simplicity, the teleological argument has certain strengths that have made the argument hard to refute. Let us take a look at what it states and what its strengths and weaknesses are. Before the theory of evolution was proposed, the original version of the teleological argument said the following: 1. Life on Earth is too complex for it to have just appeared. Take, for instance, the human body. It is composed of organ systems, that are made of organs, that are made of body tissue, that are made of cells. Although they are separate and perform different tasks, all of these parts work together perfectly to sustain human life. 2. There is some sort of design to life. 3. If something is designed, then it must have a designer. 4. Life has a designer and that designer is God. It is easy for us in the 21th century to dismiss this argument quickly because we are aware of evolution, but this did sound convincing to many people in the 18th century—as well as the young Charles Darwin in the 19th century. Imagine strolling along the beach and coming across a watch lying on the sand. You pick it up and observe the hands and the smooth metal cover. The inside looks even more complicated, with gears intricately formed and placed to make the watch work. It seems highly unlikely that this watch simply came into existence by chance; it must have had a watchmaker who designed it. This version has certain obvious flaws. It is true that living systems are enormously complicated,
and in the 18th century, we lacked a satisfactory materialistic explanation as to how life came to be. However, solving the problem by associating it with the supernatural is an unnecessary leap. (This is often known as the “God-of-the-gaps” argument.) Isn’t it also possible that there are many gods that are creating and designing life, not just a single God? Furthermore, this argument fails to prove that this entity that creates life has infinite power and intelligence. It would also have to be true that God is a pretty complex being, capable of designing life on Earth. After all, the designer is more complicated than the designee. So does God have a designer? If so, the result is an infinite recursion of designs, and we would be forced to return to the cosmological argument. If not, then it is quite possible for a complex object to be not designed; thus, it would be possible for life to be un-designed. When William Paley proposed this version of the argument in the 18th century, critics pointed out these weaknesses. Nevertheless, they all conceded that they could not think of a better explanation. Paley’s argument was a poor explanation for life, but there was no better theory—until Darwin came along in the 19th century. Things do get a bit more interesting if you modernize the argument. 1. The universe has certain conditions that are suitable to sustain itself. The speed of light has a given velocity in a vacuum, and elementary particles like electrons have specific mass values. If any of these values were to be changed, the universe would cease to exist. We have also come up with mathematical/scientific models that accurately describe the nature of the universe (e.g. general relativity to describe gravity). 2. There is some sort of design or structure in our universe. 3. There must be some intelligent agent that imposed these conditions onto the universe such that it can exist, and that agent is God. But there is a new problem that arises from the modern form. We currently do not have a scientific theory about why the universe has its given parameters. One theory is that our universe is one of many universes in a giant multiverse which consists of a cosmic bubble containing many randomly-generated universes, each with different conditions. Most do not have the requisite conditions to last for very long, but some do, and our universe happens to be one of them. The problem with the multiverse theory is that we currently lack solid evidence for it. In short, the three theological arguments discussed in this article fail to convincingly prove the existence of God. However, they are worth knowing, we must recognize their importance as three significant milestones in human thought as we move forward toward new arguments and explanations. Lester Kim '11 (lkim@fas) may also exist under different conditions elsewhere in the multiverse. editor@harvardindependent.com
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To Thine Own Self Be True Growing up Hindu in Christian Texas. By ARHANA CHATTOPADHYAY
I
Bible in third grade. I took it for the candy. “Here, read this. It’s a good book,” Paul Park said, smiling toothily as he handed me a glossy children‘s Bible taped to a Heath bar. Salvation never tasted so sweet. I remember eating it slowly with the Bible in my lap, trying to think about Jesus and my sins while I savored it, because that was probably what I was supposed to be thinking about. Instead, my mind kept wandering to more earthly matters, like the spelling test I had (accidentally) cheated on, or how I couldn’t believe they were changing when Sailor Moon was on Cartoon Network to before I got home, or how cute John Farrell looked in his gym shorts. I would have made a crappy Christian. This was a bad thing because, growing up in a middle-class Texas suburb, right in the middle of the pulsing heart of the Bible belt, Christianity was not just spirituality. It was culture. Moms got their nails and hair done and then carpooled their kids from PTA meetings to their church’s potluck dinners. Dads played golf after Sunday brunch and services. Practically every girl I knew had gotten (or would get) her first kiss at a church retreat, camp, or otherwise church-affiliated activity. Driving the streets, you were more likely to spot a steeple than a Starbucks or a Wal-Mart. Not being Christian was just another thing to add to the laundry list of my parents’ offenses, which included making me go to Bengali school and refusing to let me join Girl Scouts or attend sleepovers. I was sure that they were intent on depriving me of a normal childhood to the greatest extent possible. Unlike me, though, my parents were impervious to the daily barrage of Christianity. In fact, they thrived in it. For example, I remember when they got to go see Passion of the Christ for free through a neighbor’s church group. They smiled and nodded enthusiastically while the pastor talked to them about Christianity after the movie, grabbed some extra free popcorn, and then came home to watch the Mahabharata, a mini-series based on the Hindu epic, on the Indian TV channel. Christianity, like other aspects of American culture, seemed to slide off them as if from Teflon. As I grew older, though, deeper conflicts began to emerge. After I reconciled myself to the fact that I would always be more than a little different from most of my friends, I began to crave something that I lacked. Difficult circumstances in high school made me wish I had a guiding compass to live my life, the way most of my friends who were Christian, Jewish, or Muslim did. They could reread a section of the Quran or talk to a pastor or rabbi when a crisis arose. Not only that, but they had a community of believers that would support them through it. I felt that by being Hindu, I was left untethered, stranded on uncertain and shaky ground. The Hinduism I was raised in sometimes felt less about spirituality than about an excuse for lots of Indian people to get together and eat, gossip, bicker, and so on and so forth. My parents always took me and my younger sister to temple on birthdays and New Year’s, and each year we went to Durga Puja, the major religious festival for Bengali worshippers. got my first
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The ten-armed Goddess Durga (how progressive!), wife of Shiva, was said to have been created by all the Gods to kill an evil demon on rampage. She smote him while he took refuge in the belly of a water buffalo. The morning of the puja consisted of a ceremony in which various offerings were made to a statue of the deity, and at night, there was an elaborate feast and a cultural show, in which my sister and I were invariably required to participate. The ceremonies, during which the priest bathed and offered food and flowers to the Goddess while chanting mantras in Sanskrit to garner her blessings, always seemed detached. I never knew what the priest was saying, and the only way I could participate was to try to sit through without fidgeting. Also, Hinduism has no real central text. I think of Hinduism as a disperse, diffuse religion that has had to adapt to a very diverse subcontinent. Each region, and in fact even smaller subdivisions, have their own favorite god or goddess that they worship. And most Hindus worship through Bhajans, or songs, and know basic stories of the extensive Hindu mythology, but for the grand majority they do not read the profusion of Hindu texts, even those translated into the vernacular. Study of the texts is reserved for monks and other religious scholars. My father and mother would both briefly pray daily in front of the small altar in our house, and I sometimes sneaked into the room where the idols were kept and closed my eyes, hoping to be struck by enlightenment of some kind. But the images and stories of Goddesses slaying water buffalo demons and elephant-headed Gods did not speak to me. I could not identify with them or adapt them to worship in my own life; they were alien to me. So while I remained for all intents and purposes a Hindu, I internally created my own brand of faith, with a nameless higher power I would pray to before I went to sleep, one who would listen to my problems and carry me through my daily struggles. But I still felt guilty. Wasn’t this way of practicing Hinduism a little hypocritical? So after I came to college, I took a course taught by Diana Eck on Hinduism, hoping that my own religion would be demystified. Unfortunately for me, the class was mostly about the historical and socio-cultural aspects of the religion, with an emphasis on mythology, rather than the spiritual or theological facets that I was searching for. (To be fair to the class, though, I never
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did the reading). The real transformation came during my sophomore spring, a time when again, things were tumultuous in my life. This time, though, I really needed the kind of strength and comfort that religious guidance can offer. I had seen e-mails about a study group led by Harvard’s Hindu chaplain at the Kennedy School of Government on Friday afternoons. I was a little hesitant, mostly because I knew nothing about the text they were discussing — the Bhagavad Gita — but my mother, desperate to see me happier, prodded me to at least try. So I went. When I showed up, I was more than surprised to see that only half the members in the group looked Indian. Many were my age or a little older. And I was even more stunned by the chaplain himself. Swami Tyagananda was not your ordinary monk — the kind with slicked back ponytails and red marks on their forehead that I was used to seeing at temples. He looked to be about my grandfather’s age, and instead of robes, he wore an orange sweatshirt and jeans (orange is a color of religious significance). He was friendly and personable, asking some of the students who came to the study group regularly about how they were doing. Then we started discussing the Gita itself. The Gita is an excerpt of the Mahabharata and is about Arjun, a warrior king, who must fight his own brothers in an epic battle between good and evil. He is reluctant to fight and kill his own kin, so the God Krishna intervenes and reminds him about his duty, or karma. Swamiji took an abstract, ancient text and explained it in a way that we could understand and apply to our own lives. He was funny, extremely intelligent, articulate, and attuned to American culture. He made references to Jackie Chan movies and the iPod touch while explaining the edicts by which Hindus should strive to live their lives, and eventually reach enlightenment. He explained reincarnation and how to become closer to Brahma, the all-encompassing, through self-reflection and following your duty. I realized that many other people had the same questions I did and that Swamiji was able to answer them at our level and for our specific instances. Moreover, he frequently cited examples from other religious traditions, teaching us that Hinduism is at its heart an extremely tolerant philosophy. Although these lessons were only the very, very tip of the iceberg, I became addicted to these study groups. And moreover, I think my personal journey as a Hindu has only just begun; I have recently started to read the works of Swami Vivekenanda, a great monk who founded the Vedanta school of thought that Swami Tyagananda belongs to. I also started attending meditation sessions and lectures at the Vedanta Society in Kenmore Square, and finally found the community of believers that I have looked for all my life. For the first time, I am happy to be Hindu, and to practice in a way that provides me strength and peace of mind and heart and makes me better, kinder, more positive. Arhana Chattopadhyay ’11 (achattop@fas) moves daily toward enlightenment. 02.18.10 • The Harvard Independent
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Sunday Conversations Speaking with Jeremiah Cross ’11, a Christian student at Harvard. By SONIA COMAN
H
ow did you become a member
of the Harvard College Alpha Omega?
My membership with the Harvard College Alpha Omega started this summer after school ended. I was still on campus working with Dorm Crew and happened to be walking outside of the Science Center when a member invited me out to a Bible discussion. School was out, of course, but those people still on campus (and some students from sister groups at schools around Boston) — they were still meeting together weekly. So, while hesitant at first, I went out to it, started going to church with them, and the rest is history. How are the weekly Bible discussions organized? Within the HCAO, we seek to discuss issues of faith, reason, and spirituality within the Christian tradition and to explore how these concern the Harvard community and how we can enrich understanding of Christianity among faculty and students. We actually have two Bible discussions a week on Fridays, one in the Quad and one on the river (split up for ease of access). The discussion leader for that week (as it’s not always the same person from week to week) chooses a topic and a few scriptures regarding the topic, and we have a very open-ended conversation on what those scriptures mean and how we can apply them in our daily lives. The Quad discussion last Friday, for instance, was on weaknesses and how God can transform what might seem like an unconquerable disadvantage into a triumph to His glory (e.g. David vs. Goliath). Can you share an experience from your involvement with the HCAO that shed a new light on your student life at Harvard? Going out to that first Bible discussion changed my life! It The Harvard Independent • 02.18.10
ushered in a new and (prayerfully) lasting epoch in my spiritual journey, which has gone through a number of ups and downs during my time in college. For me personally, during the first couple of years, one thing that had been hard to master was a consistency in worshiping and praising God, reading the Bible, praying, etc. It was too easy to go out to parties, get drunk, debaucherize (if I may coin a word) and such things. There was no spiritual support, no place for me to take refuge from worldliness, and so I shunned spirituality and embraced fleshly gratification. What I found in HCAO was a group of people who were intent on leading me to, and helping me remain in, the grace of God. On the way, they’ve become my family and are among my best friends.
sometimes not so successfully. If I don’t pray in the morning, then I do it at night, or whenever is most convenient during the day. I once heard someone say, somewhat jokingly yet insightfully, “It’s good to pray in the morning, because you start your day off on the right foot, and have a standard to guide you the rest of the day. If you pray at night, you’re more likely to be asking
forgiveness for all of your failures of that day.” So that’s why I try to pray in the mornings. Sometimes I sit in my bed, sometimes I kneel down on my floor. Sometimes I take a walk, and other times I even write down my prayers in a notebook. I don’t really have a structured method of praying; I just try to have a genuine conversation with God and lay out everything on my heart.
Is religion necessary? This is an important question and it can elicit endless responses. What are your thoughts on the issue, in light of your Christian involvement on campus? That’s a good question. I think religion can play a very divisive role in contemporary issues. It even causes rifts between the various denominations of people who call themselves Christians. Jesus criticized the religious leaders of His day, and I think much of what He said about them can be applied to many of the so-called prophets and wayward souls of our own day who use organized religion for self-gain. Such practices have existed for ages under the pretense of “religion.” I think that, unfortunately, religion cannot save the world, only Jesus can. So in short, my answer would be: is religion necessary? No. Christ is. When do you pray? How do you pray? I try to pray in the mornings,
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By RARES PAMFIL