Pope Benedict XVI says he regrets that Muslims were offended by his recent remarks, but he stops short of apologizing for the remarks.
Would it have helped if the offended parties had read the entire speech, rather than taking a few sentences out of context? It seems that the violent reaction among some Muslims, including the firebombing of churches, only serves to reinforce the Pope's point - that faith without reason is trouble.
Continued from A New Life - Part V
The Salvation Army Adult Rehabilitation Center (ARC) provided me with just the right amount of structure necessary in those early days of recovery. It helped that I was at an above-average ARC (the relatively new facility in Romulus, MI - pictured at right) which was under especially good management at the time.
The ARC program is six months long. There is no charge for services; funding is provided through donations and sales of items in the thrift stores. There is also a lot of free labor in the ARC - residents are required to complete 40 hours of Work Therapy per week, in various positions related to donated items (e.g. receiving, processing, and merchandising), or doing janitorial or kitchen work in the ARC itself. When not doing Work Therapy, residents participate in individual and group counseling sessions, as well as other didactic programming, chapel services, and Bible study.
There is plenty of free time as well, in the evening and on weekends. We had a ping-pong table, a pool table, a library with computers (plenty of software, but no Internet), and four TV rooms, not including the big-screen TV in the main recreation area. In good weather we also had a basketball court, volleyball, and a small driving range with donated golf clubs and balls.
The second floor included bedrooms and showers. It was here that the country club vibe gave way to more of a military feel. Each bedroom housed five or six men. Every man had a cot, a night stand with two drawers, and a locker. Upon intake to the facility, everyone received a voucher for clothing to be obtained at the adjacent thrift store, including a suit of spiffy Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes for chapel. In addition to our "new" garb, we were given a shaving kit and a pocket-size, paperback New Testament. Then we were sent off to shave, shower, and make ourselves look presentable for a change. I had already been sober for about five weeks, so I came in clean as a whistle, but the majority of new recruits were a bit grungy.
We were required to keep our hair short enough that it didn't touch our shirt collars. That's another thing - all of our shirts had to have collars and be tucked into our pants. And forget about facial hair, except a well-trimmed mustache.
Work Therapy assignments began the first full day of the program, i.e. the day following intake. I lucked out and got assigned to a Stores position. These thrift store jobs were highly desired. The work involved sweeping and mopping the sales floor, arranging furniture and other merchandise, and occasionally assisting customers. It was far easier than working in the warehouse.
The massive warehouse was behind the thrift store, and provided Work Therapy assignments for around 70% of the ARC residents, including most newbies. Donations were picked up from homes and other drop-off locations by drivers, some of whom were residents, and brought to the warehouse for processing. The majority of most truckloads consisted of clothing donations, which were processed on a conveyor belt. At the beginning of the line was the Bag-Buster. He tore open the garbage bag, often dusty from months of sitting in someone's musty garage, and scattered the clothes on the belt. Beside the dust and smell of unwashed clothing, there were sometimes bugs, and occasionallyaccidently donated lawn clippings. Next came a long line of Sorters, who picked out garments deemed resellable. Whatever clothing didn't make the cut ended up in a huge bailing machine, where it was compacted into half-ton cubes and, as I recall, sold to some other company which picked it up and trucked it down to Mexico.
My adjustment to the ARC program was made a good deal easier by the spiritual awakening I experienced shortly after my arrival, which I outlined in the previous My Story installment. The experience produced such an upheaval that much of my worldview was turned around 180 degrees in a matter of days. As I began to look at life through the eyes of faith, I had to discard many long-held opinions for new ones. But despite the dramatic changes taking place, I felt a profound sense of peace and joy.
I now felt I had a much stronger armor to defend me against the slings and arrows of early recovery. And I would need all the help I could get - the next year would bring some of the biggest challenges of my life.
Continued from A New Life - Part IV
During my first two weeks at the Salvation Army's Adult Rehabilitation Center (ARC), I was restricted to the facility and surrounding property. I was immediately given a Work Therapy assignment in the adjacent Thrift Store - but when my first weekend arrived, I realized I had a lot of time on my hands.
When I had been in jail, in my boredom I made to-do lists, including one of books I wanted to read once I got out. When I didn't know of a title, I wrote a description of the type of book I would seek, such as, "a book describing Christianity from a scientific perspective". What I had in mind in that particular case was not Christian Science, but traditional Christian doctrine presented in a manner that would be palatable to the modern reader who takes for granted a scientific viewpoint of the universe.
As a youth, I had accepted at face value the doctrine and theology I had learned. Then, in my high school and college years, I had welcomed the common objections to Christian doctrine with enthusiasm, having already abandoned the Church. I had outgrown my childish understanding of spiritual matters, and had never bothered to seek out a more complex understanding. Now, for the first time, I found myself wishing vaguely that I could find a mature faith - an adult conception of God.
After all, I was in a Christian-based rehab, where I would be expected to attend religious programming, including Chapel services twice per week. I wanted to believe in Christ, not only in order to feel more comfortable at the ARC, but because I found myself drawn to Christ's teachings, as I understood them. I just couldn't get past the idea of a bodily resurrection - the idea that this Jesus person was the Son of God and actually rose from the dead. If the resurrection story was not true, then what, if anything, in the Bible could be believed?
My interest in blogging originally stemmed from a desire to keep a personal journal of my recovery, and of my life in general. After deciding to do it on the computer rather than write by hand, it was a no-brainer to post the whole thing. I mean, why not? I also keep a little handwritten log of stuff that's too personal for the public. But I figured a weblog was a good way of doing what we AAs call Twelfth Step work -- spreading the message of recovery. Simultaneously, I get to prattle on about a variety of other subects.
I mention my motives lest the casual reader be left to wonder why I bother posting information that may seem trivial or irrelevant. For instance, I don't have one of those "What I'm Reading" sidebar thingies yet, but I'm going to tell you what I'm reading anyway. I don't have the time right now to do the kind of thoughtful, in-depth analysis required of a decent book review, so I'll only comment briefly on my recent selections.
Continued from A New Life - Part I.
The state cop who was driving me to Wayne County Jail was nothing if not cheerful. Trooper S--- was a black male who appeared to be in early middle age. He was clean-cut in appearance, as all state police are. I had dealt with my share of cops in my life, especially in the past few days of being shuffled amongst precincts. This was the first one I could remember that bothered trying to be friendly. He attempted to make small talk with me, punctuating his side of the conversation with joking comments and laughter.
I wasn't in a sociable mood, to say the least. I couldn't be sure whether to be glad that I lucked upon a non-grumpy cop, or depressed that his cheerfulness was making a mockery of my tragic situation. Either way, I didn't feel like chatting. And why was he being so nice, anyway? I figured the only reason for his levity was he had the cushy job of transporting prisoners. He'd probably paid his dues with years of dangerous duty, and was rewarded with the assignment of Cruising Around with the Pre-Apprehended.
I'm grateful that my recently rediscovered Catholic faith is not contingent upon a disbelief in the scientific theory of evolution.
The ongoing debate pitting evolution against "intelligent design" has been irritating me for quite awhile now. Why, I've been wondering, is there so little mention of the possibility that the process of evolution is being guided by a Higher Power? Why does it seem we are only hearing from Atheists and Fundamentalists?
The Catholic Church has long taught that the two views are not mutually exclusive, but rather are the product of entirely different realms. There shouldn't be much to argue about, right?
So, it was refreshing to discover this article in Time magazine yesterday. (I have a subscription to the tangible, paper and ink version of the magazine, but the link here seems to be to the same story I read).
The article is about Evangelical Christian and biologist Francis Collins, whose book, The Language of God: A Scientist Presents Evidence for Belief, argues that science and religion can coexist peacefully.
The story describes the current lack of agreement:
. . . few of the polemicists have the authority to preach beyond their own choirs. Most believers don't care to listen to an atheistic scientist calling the idea of God a mythology created to explain what humans don't understand, and academic atheists are just as uninterested in scientific lectures from Bible literalists.
I suspect there are a great deal of scientists out there who are Christians, but who keep their faith under wraps at work, for fear of losing credibility among their colleagues. Hopefully, Collins' book will catch on, and will influence a few minds on both extremes of this debate.