On the 10 Commandments

The ever-illuminating sakia139 posted this -- and I think it deserves to be distributed widely:

The Ten Commandments
Ben Daniel

Aired March 20, 2005, on KQED

On a recent Spring day I went hiking in the hills above Milpitas with
several friends. There were five of us. Four Presbyterian ministers
and one very secular lawyer. As we sat on the green grass looking out
through the clear air over the sparkling bay the lawyer asked us what
we thought about the placing of monuments to the Ten Commandments in
public spaces. We had a good discussion. But my contribution to the
discussion left me unsatisfied. Here's what I wish I had said.

So long as it's equitable, inclusive, and shows no favoritism, I am
all for a public celebration of religion. However, if someone wants to
honor my religious tradition, I'd rather they spent the money
otherwise earmarked for a graven image of the Ten Commandments on a
homeless shelter or a hunger program or a library or a school. Such
charity would bring greater honor to my faith tradition than would big
stone tablets reminding me, among other things, not to covet my
neighbor's donkey.

If a monument is needed, I'd rather it quoted the words of Jesus who
said "Blessed are the peace makers. For they shall be called the
children of God." Or the words of the prophet Micah, who instructed us
to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God.

But better than such monuments or one-time gifts to worthy causes
would be a public policy that gave ongoing support for the poor and
for the education of our children; governments at the local, state,
and federal levels that honored my faith tradition through
peace-making and the practice of justice, kindness, and humility.

And in honor of Jesus, who asked his followers to do their good deeds
in secret, I'd like for government to practice the virtues of my faith
without reference to my faith. For the work of sheltering the
homeless, of feeding the poor, of educating our children, the work of
peace-making, justice, kindness, and humility -- these are not just
celebrations of my faith, but they also honor every religious
tradition I know.

If everyone would forget about building monuments to the Ten
Commandments, and would focus instead on the practice of virtues
common to every religion, we would have a country that would be
actually moral, instead of apparently religious. And, fundamentally,
isn't that really what we all want?

With a perspective, this is Ben Daniel.

10 Things -- My Secret Code

I lost track of my "by request" follow-up to the "10 Things I've Done Which You Haven't" meme.

I seem to recall that godlyperspectiv specifically asked about the secret code I created when I was 12 years old and still use.

During the summer of my 12th year, I started having the daydreams which eventually became the myth cycle that provided the backdrop to my daily life until I was into my early thirties. These daydreams grew out of a highly unlikely source, and one which embarrassed me even at age 12. (No, it wasn't anything terrible or shameful -- in fact, raptures_shadow calls it "probably the most normal thing you ever did" -- but that didn't erase the fact that I was embarrassed by it.)

But these daydreams were riveting to me, and quickly became so involved that I simply had to write them down, so I could develop them with better continuity and detail. But I couldn't bear the thought of someone else stumbling on them and reading them. (I had a little sister, after all.) So I created code, called Sabrin, to keep them secret.

We had a set of World Book Encyclopedia at home, and at the beginning of each volume was a history of how our modern letters came into being. I borrowed from old alphabets, from planetary and astrological signs, math symbols, and random shapes to create a fairly simple code, but one which would prevent any casual reading. Over time, I grew very proficient writing in it.

As I grew older, most of my personal creative writing (as opposed to what I wrote to turn in for creative writing classes) sprang from very deep places, and I was utterly certain that anyone who read it would look at it in blank incomprehension -- or be dismissive. So I wrote stories that got A grades in high school and college, and wrote A papers, but seldom expressed my truest voice in plain English except when I wrote stories (sometimes erotically charged) for my boyfriends. I still have hundreds of pages of notebook paper filled with stories written in Sabrin.

One of the biggest achievements of the past few years has been my venturing beyond my code, beyond the privacy of my paper journal, and sharing the utterances of the true voice which I kept hidden behind code for so long. The first big step was when I started writing stories based on my group's gaming characters and it was well received. Then I wrote the daydream that turned into a fledgling novel, which was also well-received by that group. That was the first step out of silence.

LJ has been critically important from that perspective, and seminary has been a surprisingly powerful experience in that regard as well, as I speak from my minority position in a community made up of ministerial candidates from the large, established Christian denominations.

I don't write much in Sabrin anymore, although I have to admit that it comes in very handy when I'm bored in meetings or classes and my writing veers from proper notes to personal reflections, stories, or fantasy.