Is it a veggie Bible?

The only kind of writing I’ve come to enjoy – by enjoy I mean, am able to do quickly and feel the least bit satisfied with – is literary analysis. This is “enjoyment” is derived mostly from the fact that you get to use quotes and analyze them – however you want to. It is so easy to construe the meaning of any paragraph, sentence, phrase or word. If you just take snippets out of context, there’s so much “deep, insightful” b.s. that you can pull out of the air. Then you tie them all together in perfect support of your little argument. That’s it: nice and simple, no fuss, no hassle. The best part is if you are a skillful insight fabricator, it is possible to come up with a reasonable sounding argument for just about any topic. And now, allow me to hypocritically do so as I criticize Stephen Webb.

With that being said, I feel like the arguments for Christ being vegetarian could have very possibly come from the clever stretching of quotes. Like Dana said, one of the large arguments used was that the accounts of the Last Supper “provide no mention of Christ or indeed, the Apostles partaking of the traditional Paschal Lamb before, during or after the Last Supper” (X138). Just because there is no mention of Jesus and his followers eating meat during one meal, although it is a rather significant one, does not mean that Jesus was vegetarian. Who knows? – Maybe he was. That would be awesome. However, that is in no case a valid argument.

To me it does make sense that Jesus would have been on a diet of less meat. My biblical knowledge does not extend very far, but from what I’ve gathered through the years, it sounds like he spent a large portion of his life wandering around the world and spreading his good knowledge. Also, from what I’ve gathered through the reading, God does not really approve of riches – “How hardly they that have riches enter into the kingdom of God! For it is easier for a camel to go through a needle’s eye, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God” (X132). Thus, I am assuming (anybody can correct me if I’m wrong: I make no claim to have lived in Jesus’ time) that when Jesus travelled and taught, he focused on teaching the poorer variety of people. Not necessarily the dirt poor people, but the people who were just surviving. From what history classes have told me, meat was quite a luxury in the olden days. If you were poor all you ate was bread and potatoes. Therefore, if Jesus spent a lot of time
with the poorer folks, he would probably have eaten what they eat; this diet would prove to be mostly vegetarian, I am assuming.

Although this is a fascinating topic, I agree with Jenny, in that I do not think this argument is worth pursuing in order to make the world go veg. After all, God gave the Ten Commandments and said “Thou shall not steal. Though shall not commit adultery. Thou shall not steal” (Exodus 20: 2-17). God commanded this and people still do these things all the time. Thus, if it was somehow proved that Jesus was vegetarian, while maybe some would convert, I question if it would make a significant impact.

Also, as I’m reading these portions for the first time, it seems to me that certain themes are plainly stated numerous times. I understand that Bump specifically put assigned us to read all the compassion portions, but the same basic principle of compassion and charity is expounded upon greatly with phrases like, “And now, abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity” (X133). With that in mind, if vegetarianism was really a pressing issue, it seems like it would have at least been mentioned once. Christ is such a model being of compassion, love, faith, and goodness; his life seems to have been chronicled quite closely. If it was a high wish of his, I think it would have been mentioned. So, I think we should focus on what has been mentioned like love and compassion instead.

All you need is <3

12 - All You Need Is Love.mp3 -

Like Dana said, everybody has a different opinion as to what we humans are actually entitled to.

When we arrive on Earth, we come with empty hands: there is nothing we hold grasped in our hands as we push our way out of our mother’s wombs. This is something we “must learn to accept. To start at ground level. With nothing. Not with nothing but. With nothing. No cards, no weapons, no property, no rights, no dignity” (Coetzee X88).

The only thing we have, so to speak, is our mind. It is the one place where it is possible to have absolute control (not that it often happens). The mind is the collection of our thoughts, feelings, ideas and emotions: it is “the element or complex of elements in an individual that feels, perceives, thinks, wills, and especially reasons” (Merriam Webster). Thus, by having this consciousness, we have our thoughts, ideas and emotions, and we accordingly perform actions and deeds in the world. In my opinion, this is what we are entitled to in the world – our ideas, thoughts, feelings, and perhaps most importantly, our actions.

If this is all that we have, I don’t want to spoil it. I don’t want to be like creepy David Laurie, grossly obsessed with a girl many years his senior, with a mind that “has become a refuge for old thoughts, idle, indigent, with nowhere else to go…[where] he ought to chase them out, sweep the premises clean” (Coetzee X76). The mind is a special thing – we should “cultivate and take care of it” (Genesis 115).

Thus, the way to make the best use of our precious gift of the mind and the ability and potential it provides is through good action and good deeds. Our interactions with each other, and the world around us should be kind and loving – the people who achieve the ability to be unfading bearers of love and kindness are the ones who shine in the world. After all, it is God who says in the Genesis, “Be masters of the fish of the sea, the birds of heaven and all living animals on earth” (Genesis 115). It can easily be argued that the statement gives us free reign to do whatever we may please with the animals of the world – that we can eat them, we can torture them, we can slaughter them. But the word master shouldn’t be taken in that manner. Doesn’t master also imply being the disciplinarian, the overseer, and the caretaker? We should use our intellectual abilities to watch over and take care of our fellow beings on Earth, instead of killing them. Besides, in the next line God says, “See, I give you all the seed-bearing plants that are upon the whole earth, and all the trees with seed-bearing fruit; this shall be your food” (Genesis 115).” Thus, eat plants not animals. He said so. But in all sincerity, is makes the most sense to me to act in a way that least hurts the least amount of beings.


On a completely different track – although I’ve always wanted to, this was the first time I ever actually read parts of the Bible. I have always heard the stories of creation and how Adam and Eve came to be, but this was kind of exciting. In this day and age of evolution and science (and in no way offense to anybody) the portrayal of the creation of the “Earth, and wide ocean, and the vault profound,” (Virgil X122) in seven days, and the way God is characterized are a little hard to believe. However, I like that is such an commandingly empowering story – it leaves you with a sense of what good/productivity you are supposed to accomplish in your life. You don’t necessarily have to believe in God, but I guess it helps multitudes of you do. And with this limited amount of time we each have on Earth, it doesn’t really matter what you believe, think, have or don’t have. After all, “you return to the soil as you were taken from it. For dust you are and to dust you shall return” (Genesis 117). All that can speak for us are our actions – so fill them with as much love as is possible.

P3a...

“Don’t get married or have kids. You’ll spend your whole life caught up in that circle. Go out in the world and do some good that will help everyone.”

My mother makes sure to remind me of her sentiments on life and dharma (duty) at a rather consistent bi-weekly basis. Basically, she is trying to tell me that she wants me to be the next Mother Theresa. Furthermore, she is absolutely convinced is it going to happen – she has lots of faith. Thus, when there was a presentation at temple about a social service program affiliated with my church, doing work in rural India, I felt it was the opportunity of a lifetime which would be a perfect place for me to start my chrysalis towards being the most compassionate being in the world.

Convincing my parents to let me go was not too difficult: my mother was ready from the beginning, and the work was in India, our motherland, so my father could not say no to aiding kindred souls. Promptly, it was agreed that my father and I would go to Sidhbari, India over the approaching summer break. As the arrangements were being made, I eagerly looked over the lists of what to take there. Excitedly, I packed up my precious stuffed animal collection, and the hundreds of brightly colored pencils I had amassed over the years. I even spent hours making pretty little knot bracelets. It would be simple like I had seen in those documentaries: I would spend time with the kids and give them toys and goods; they would be happy and life would eventually work out. I was confident and mentally prepared for my first saintly deed – it was no biggie.

That is how I boarded the plane June 8th, 2007, journal in hand, ready to document my trip. On a side note, part of the bargain of letting me go was that I would keep a daily journal or write a paper about my trip to compensate for not doing a lame summer internship or attending some hollow “leadership” summer camp. Well, that never really happened; all I wrote down in that black and white polka-dotted journal was a list of the names of people I met during the trip who I felt made an impact on my life. While it was enough for me, it was not really descriptive enough for my mom. So, here it is, Mom – this one is for you.

Arriving in India is always a bit of a culture shock. Arriving there is like being translocated to the center of the origin of chaos. The massive amounts of people, the swerving traffic, the intense heat, and sweet, dusty smell all hit at once. Needless to say, after the grueling twenty-one hours of plane flight and the sleepless night on the train, I was an anxious mess and was not looking forward to the three hour motion sickness-inducing drive through the mountainous region. However, my views changed when the taxi driver arrived.

As strange this may sound, Sonu was the most compassionate driver I had ever met. Just like his name (sonu means gold), he had a smile of gold: it started with the upward curl of his lips and extended deep into his eyes. His smile personified warmth and caring – and most importantly – a genuine interest. As we journeyed to the foothills of the Himalayas, Sonu kept us captivated and excited to be there with his sprightly manners, all while taking special care to drive like a million dollar chauffeur. He had a true passion for being the best possible driver, but also in really taking an interest in us. He tried his best to communicate through his broken English, and when could say nothing else, flashed that ever-comforting million dollar smile. Thinking back to Sonu, I realize compassion requires taking a genuine interest in others’ and working to comfort them.

Thus, we arrived at the magnificently landscaped ashram – a Hindu place of religious study equivalent to a Buddhist monastery – ready to settle in. When the director of the ashram welcomed us, I did not realize how much I would come to appreciate the fact that he spoke in English. As we attended dinner later that evening, I quickly became aware of the fact that I could only understand a tenth of what anybody was saying, as they were all speaking in Hindi. How I wished I could say the magic word and instantly know Hindi. The next day as I explored the place where I was to be performing my saintly deeds for the next two weeks, the prospects of me talking to anybody for that time period swiftly vanished from slim to none; at the Chinmaya Organization for Rural Development (CORD), most people spoke Pahadi, a wickedly twisted , faster version of Hindi. How was I ever to connect with and better the lives of people whom I could not even sustain more than a five minute conversation with? All of my hopes of being Mother Teresa were sufficiently dashed.

Right at that moment, the heavens sent a blessing galloping in, some sunshine to clear up the clouds, in the form of three-year-old Krishna, who ironically even bears the names of one of my favorite deities. The guide showing me around explained how little Krishna had already undergone three major surgeries in an attempt to heal
his awkwardly twisted leg, as he attacked her with a flurry of hugs and playful punches. He glanced over, noticing me the stranger, and I, not knowing what else to do, gave him a Sonu-like smile which had previously comforted me. That was the trick! Krishna energetically hobbled over and began to use my hand as a doodling pad for the pen he had just found. At that moment, I was struck by the magical effectiveness of a simple smile. Smiling, it dawned on me, is the language of peace, love and happiness, a language that everybody understands and speaks. It breaks barriers otherwise unbreakable and makes connections in the most unassuming places. Through my lesson learned from Krishna, I made many fast friends, and even though unable to technically communicate, I was able to communicate my joy, love and compassion.

As I spent more time with Krishna, I had to attend his physical therapy sessions with him. Though it was excruciatingly painful to watch, and as desperately as I wanted to let him skip out as he begged to do every time, I knew I had to be patient and stand firm. As I saw so many examples of at CORD, compassion also requires a tough side. There were mandatory Alcoholics Anonymous types of classes for the village men who constantly went home as raging, abusive drunks. Though the farmers were not particularly inclined to change how they had farmed all their lives, they had to attend classes about more effective methods of farming. Everybody attended classes on money management. Because the best is wanted for everybody, there are times when it is understood that while patiently empathizing, it is also required to be strict and disciplinary. True compassion is not just being able to sympathize; it also requires teaching and taking care of what is necessary.

On the other hand, compassion also calls for allowing people to freely express themselves. The villagers being serviced by CORD also had the opportunities to learn a variety of skills – whatever they pleased. There was sewing, weaving, and artwork, among many others. The villagers who volunteered to cook could not have been any happier to help prepare the meals. Compassion allows for people to flourish at what they are good at. It is a form of encouragement, meant to help them move forward and learn about themselves and their capabilities.

A working compassion seems to require having a conglomeration of all positive traits – that probably explains why compassionate people are so successful in their endeavors. Dr. Kshama Metre, the founder and director of CORD, is one of the most compassionate people I have ever met. Kshama Didi (sister), as she is affectionately called by the villagers, was originally a doctor in the United States with an extremely successful practice. Not satisfied with her life, she had a calling to doctor in the rural villages of India, thus leaving her old life behind in the most selfless of actions. Sensing the need for change in the area, she opened CORD and designed the entire system which teaches the villagers how to build their own lives; now, people from villages two hours away make a daily commute of two hours in order to go to CORD. A program built so attractively requires a multitude of empathetic conscientiousness of what the people want and need, what they like and dislike. Most of all, an active compassion like that of Kshama Didi’s, requires a passion fueled by pure love.

As I continue to blossom and learn in my journey to being the most compassionate being I can be, I keep the people of Sidhbari in mind. This life should be filled with a passion for what I do, being interested in everybody, the ability to communicate, some tough love, being understanding, taking action and being selfless for what I believe in, and mostly importantly, having and sharing love.



Word Count: 1,548

Mission: Anti-Androidization

I thought this was the cutest thing ever..

I believe babies are some of the most intelligent beings on the face of the planet. Starting out as blank slates, they learn the all subtleties of life at an incredible pace. We all know the ability of a toddler to ask 100 questions for an hour straight. They have the most sincere fire for learning. Their minds have no boundaries and their imaginations are limitless. And we’ve all experienced those times when kids blurt out the obvious (sometimes painful) truth that the “grown-ups” are skirting around because they “don’t know better.” Babies have not only a supreme IQ intelligence, but they are also in touch with their emotions. Though it seems silly to say so because of the truth in the statement that babies can’t really control their emotions, this factor is just that which makes them most human. Babies take no effort in hiding or manipulating their feelings. My mom tells me that as a baby, I would giggle uncontrollably for hours, and then do the same with my tears. If they’re hurt or angry they cry, delighted they scream, happy they smile. A hug from a little kid is one of the most fulfilling things I’ve ever felt – because it is soaked in sincerity. Children live so “vastly in the present. Their daily reality is a fabric of friends and family, the field of feeling and energy that one’s own body is, the earth they stand on and the wind that wraps around it” (X49). What has society done to us to so easily snatch that away from our grasps?

And so, I have evolved from that primitive state to this civilized one. But I don’t think I really have. I’ve come to realize that I starting acting like those whom I surround myself with. If it’s kids, I’ll talk with the cooing baby voice the rest of the day; if it’s angry people, I’ll be angry. What about the fact that I spend the majority of my time with machines and gadgets which provide me with just as much entertainment as real people? I guess you can call that my “androidization”. The less and less that I’m required to interact with actual humans, the more and more I become “impassive, as if unaffected” (Dick 189), just like Rachel Rosen, the Nexus 6 android. The bounds of society have trapped us inside little boxes. It’s not suitable to cry in public, we can’t laugh at business meeting. This all makes sense, because we’re civilized, right? This is a strange world we live in. There are so many unnatural requirements made of us that we might as well be androids. Sometimes it feels like we’ve lost the colors of life – we’re living in a Technicolor world.

I don’t mean to be so dramatic: I think that’s the hippie in me speaking out. However, I completely agree with Rousseau’s Noble Savage thought – “the idea that perhaps civilization has something to learn from the primitive” (X50). Back in the day, (not that I was there), it seems as if Native American tribes had such a strong sense of community and their place in the world. Surely they are rather primitive according to today’s standards, but they lived such full lives. Nothing in their hands went to waste, and they appreciated all that they had. Through chasing after bison and hunting them down, they were able to “use [their] body and senses to the fullest” (X50). Nowadays, we drive to the air-conditioned gym and monotonously perform the same action hundreds of times in order to build the strength they had.

I guess it’s just the fact that we’re trying so desperately to distinguish ourselves from animals. We’re denying that part inside of us. It is true – “Man is a beautiful animal” (X50). It is a bad idea for us to move away from that. Sci-fi thrillers are so many times about the doom of the Earth if robotic alien type things invaded. Thus, we should make sure that we don’t become those robotic type things, alien to the Earth. The Earth is a “vast, breathing body” (X49), mother to all of us creatures. Perhaps we should get in touch with our inner primitive side and once again learn to “sing about nature” (X51) and be the one “whose mind reaches easily out into all manners of shapes and other lives, and gives song to dreams” (X51). I know, I’m such a hippie.

Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen

A couple of days ago, my best friend Sherry called me, completely overwhelmed. After a lifetime of dreaming about it, she decided that she doesn’t want to be a doctor. She was watching a video in her medical sociology class that followed some painful medical stories, most of which had heartbreaking endings, not only because of death, but also because of all the featured doctors’ corrupt heartlessness. While she was sobbing her eyes out watching the video, she looked around in, and to her horror the rest of the students had completely blank faces – “blanker than a white sheet of paper.” It seemed like they had lost the ability “to suffer together with, [and] feel pity’ (X41). Those kids are all brilliant – they’re going to school at Rice. Yet Sherry says, everyday, she sees how brutal and ruthless the race is. How much empathy is lacking. And for that reason, she couldn’t do it anymore.

People like her give me faith in humanity. But sometimes I feel it too – that I’m turning into an android. I feel so caught up in this life that has been built around me; it’s a constant rush of class, food, homework, sleep. I feel like a robot, mechanically going through life, whizzing and whirring around in order to get everything done. As of late, I’ve been feeling like the “control over [I once had over my] emotional life is impaired” (X59). I don’t know what it is; I can’t describe what I feel. I’m not going to lie, after reading the passage on alexithymia, I was a little scared. But perhaps that’s my tendency to read way too far into everything. I guess since I was a little scared, that makes me not an alexithymiac?

Usually, I like to think that I’m pretty good at interpreting emotions. Like Dana said, I too have assumed there are a few types of intelligence. I have enough of the book smart to get by and the street smart is a little shady, but empathy and the ability to relate to others has usually been my forte. I was always the one who had to settle the elementary school fights over the cookies, and throughout the rest of grade school, was the one to counsel numerous first heartbreaks and cases of unrequited love. I don’t know why, but I always cry at the parts in movies when the protagonist is lost/confused/feels like nobody can understand them. That's part of the reason I hope to go into psychology. I hate to see people without a listening ear.

I think lately, I have become a victim of compassion fatigue. It’s not that I don’t care or feel..it’s just that I don’t care to anymore. There’s too much to care about, yet most of it doesn’t even matter in the end. I think that is what David Powell might have been feeling. (Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything crazy.) He was brilliant –had plenty of that I.Q- but maybe he didn’t have the emotions to handle the world. It’s easy to lose touch with everything, when you get too caught up in minute details. Maybe he was once of those who had “Forgotten all…emotional lessons because they no longer have access to where they are stored in the amygdala.” Like Goleman says, “How we do in life is determined by both – it is not just I.Q., but emotional intelligence that matters” (X60). If one is way up, it is important to balance it with the other intelligence. In that spirit, I think I am going to work on finding that perfect balance. I can’t let my emotions overwhelm me and get me lost in the labyrinth of my mind. I don’t want to be “an escaped android [who can] hardly tell the truth about [my]self” (Dick 99) anymore.