The greatest American liberty

The greatest American liberty is to be left alone to do and say as one pleases (ending at (just the) tip of the other’s nose).

You can call this religious liberty or freedom of speech or any other sociopolitical semantic construction you desire. What many of the conservatives in the room seem to be forgetting of late is that this live and let die policy demands that you don’t get upset by what you see if you insist on being a voyeur and spying on your neighbors.

Exponentially worse than the linguistic decision to allow literally (because of such rampant misuse) to also be defined as figuratively, is the application of law to enforce ‘religious’ liberty. Liberty is based on what one can be forced to do or kept from doing (or, rather, the absence of that force). It is not (in any way) based on what one can be asked to tolerate, to accept, to understand, to learn about, or to accept as fully human. Religious liberty (or liberty of any legally enforceable kind) is unrelated to what one may or may not agree with (despite deeply held beliefs). Otherwise my religious liberty invalidates your capitalism and willingness to destroy the planet.

Given that so many of those ‘deeply held beliefs’ are based on modern interpretations of ancient, translated writing  (mythologic, figurative, and often marked by extreme poetic license) the claim becomes even more tenuous. Social reality is based on consensual construction and shared meaning. Liberty is not, and cannot, be based on the attempt to force shared meaning, especially such culturally specific (in this case evangelical) meaning. The inability to accept that meaning is constructed or the inability to believe that history did not happen the way one wants to believe it did is not a basis upon which to insist that others blindly follow the path of ignorance. One is entitled, in America, to be ignorant and useless. One is not empowered to insist that the government protect that ignorance or force it upon others.

On a question concerning a topic most nearly approximated as ‘religion’

It would seem (after considerable thought, deliberation, and opposition) that I am a religious man. Naturally, such a comment needs considerable qualifiers. I am not a man of faith. I do not ‘believe’ as the term is most colloquially rendered. However, I find it necessary to consider myself bound to religion. 
I was raised in religion. It is not thing that one ever fully extricates oneself from. Not that I did not try. It’s part of the family business along with teaching.
Religion is a quagmire but given its prominence, its sway over popular opinion and widely believed facts, it is a sweltering pit that cannot be ignored. 

And so I come to conclusions. 

I have long called myself a ‘prophet’. This is not because I have felt a special bond with the almighty:

Stephen: In order to find his equal, an Irishman is forced to talk to God.

(Despite all the requisite kissing, I cannot claim to be Irish)

Rather it is a more archaic and secular Usage of the term. I do not cry out in the wilderness for the world to repent of its sins lest if burn in fiery damnation but rather to change its wicked ways lest it destroy the only world we have. Repent because if we keep on like this, earth won’t be fit for human habitation and, unlike for Jake Chambers, this is the only world we’ve got. 

Furthermore, I am priest. I am not an evangelist, I do not seek converts. I can’t take the stress of banging my head against those walls. But I will take on disciples. And thoryvology is an all-encompassing/non-totalizing methodology. There is a path I am attempting to cut, the success of which is likely not mine to judge. 
In the beginning, Noise is. 
Let us pray.