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Vol. 2, No 3, Nov. 2014

W hat a unique moment in the movement of things, when the in-

cidental emergence happened to occur: that pristine first time,

that hour in which subject-hood first asserted itself! Not ex nihilo,

but out of a state near nothingness, an asymptotic place where the

functions of identity and existence nearly disappear.

{ In this issue of Sine Zine, we explore the philosophical notions

of Youness in the spirit of Martin Buber, and we call for a new

language. If formulas of the human condition are language-

reliant, then what we really want is a new language of relation-

ality: a language at once immediate, embodied, and non-

dominating in its methods; a language that is both expressive,

meaningful, and grounded in connection. A language of Thou.

T he spirit of the You – for it is only because of the You that we

can claim our existence, our experiential awareness of our own

existence, at all – the spirit of the You hovered over the waters; by

way of which we should understand that “the You” is the prime

emergent principle, the first of our several identities, and that the

principles of time and meaning are its “personality traits.” In fitting

contrast the “waters” or the “deep” have always been symbols of

chaos and meaninglessness.

S omething important to say about this Youness: it inhabits the

plane of immanence as the ordering principle of the cosmos. In

other words, it is not in some world of abstraction, but exists

among the assemblage of actual things, acting among them as an

emergent force that gives meaning or order. In fact, we might say

that the emergence of the notion of thing-hood was a byproduct of

the emergence of Youness – before the You (if we can imagine such

a state) there was no time, and objects bled into each other; identi-

ty was a diffuse, nebulous non-thing, pooling here and there, ebbing

and flowing, with little currents and counter-currents. It is a

strange and wondrous mental image, a universe where everything

was everything else — but what a rich idea, full of potential!

W e do not say that the You was created, even though ostensibly

there was — time out of time — when the holy You lay dormant,

and was only hardly “hovering” at all. Rather, we assert instead that

the holy You emerged, or chose to emerge, lifting Your face from that

of the waters below. But what would cause this Youness to emerge?

All the ages of thought on the origin of things and the best that philoso-

phers can do with their crafty words is to

formulate what is called an ontological lack: in

more accessible terms, this is an incomplete-

ness deep in the fabric of being.

L et us speak for a moment in terms of Being

and of Becoming, the dyad favored by He-

gelian rebel-philosophers, pirate theologians

(like myself) unafraid to fly the skull and

crossbones on the high seas of academic im-

perialism. If Being were complete, as the Im-

perial Flagship of Episcopal or catholic theol-

ogy asserts, then there would be no room for

anything to engage in Becoming. God, we are

told, is perfect and unchanging, and does not

need us; and yet here we are, deep in the

bowels of the ship, chained to our oars, row-

ing our lives away to the beat of the free-

market drum, proclaiming every seventh

stroke the goodness of the one in the sky

who set up the Imperial chain of command to

begin with. Brethren! This is a call to rebel-

lion: join our ragtag company of pirate theo-

logians, scour the seven seas for a land of plu-

ral truths where you can find refuge from the Imperial war machines

that would grind your very bones to dust! God is not complete in any

sense that we would suspect. God is a relationality, and so are you.

Relationality is a process, and so are you. Relationality is a Becoming,

and so are you. Narrative rests at the heart of identity; there is no rea-

son for the I without the incompleteness of the You. The only type of

completeness inherent to the You is the completeness of desire for

relationship with something outside of self. In that sense alone is God

complete.

W hen we settle in the new land of plural truth, we are going to have

to learn to speak a new language of relationality. We read that

Adam created human Ur-language by naming according to the essence

of each object; such a discernment of object-

essence requires a deep relationality between

subject and object. It is then at Babel when

our language fails to articulate that relationali-

ty, ceasing to relate inherent meanings forev-

er more. It is not our job, however, to re-

trieve the essentialism of Ur-language, for

essentialism is the linguistic project of Cos-

mopolis: an abject failure. That is why I said

that the New Eden (the New Jerusalem of

Revelation) will be a place of plural truth,

where Youness will again assert itself among

all the nations.

J esus teacher can offer us a glimpse into this

project. Such relational language cannot

act as a linguistic tool for object-awareness

because it is a deeply personal and vulnerable

process. For these reasons, let us examine

the Confession as the most-aware form of

human literature, the most relational. The

confession is a move directly addressed to

the You, and as such it can appeal to the

most foundational, peace-oriented, and complete kernel of awareness

buried deep inside the human consciousness. You-thought cuts

through the sociopathic and destructive shadow of It-ness that lays

waste to literature. Augustine choses the Confessional medium not in

order to relate sideways to people – we should not read him as cynical-

ly-engaged in his philosophizing (a false appeal to our idols) – but we

should read Augustine’s Confessions in full earnest of the relational prin-

ciple of Youness. Any teenager can use literature to address the false

You of posterity, (I did once); but the true You is not so easily ad-

dressed with It-words. You-awareness cannot long abide our linguistic

structures, although valiant examplars like Moses and the Prophet ele-

gantly disprove this generality. Ultimately, though, the Law of Moses

fails to engender in human hearts a willingness to relate to God, and it

and the Recitation must be read as (holy) inspired theopoetics.

B ut what about the bulk of human cultural relationality, the false and

approximating reliance on the “special love relationship,” the idol of

“family,” and the It-awareness (that which wholly refuses to recognize

the primacy of Youness)? Perhaps we should relate to pop music – love

songs, various other idolatries, including religious ones – not as South

Park’s Eric Cartman does with his Christian Rock Band — that is, by

inscribing our own theological conceptions onto the vehicle of relation

– but as mystics and rogue theologians do. Perhaps we should attempt

to enjoy all the idolatrous, non-relational artificial culture, despite the

fact that it tries to replace relational truth with consumerism packaged

as indispensible, retributive violence sold as salvation, and no real an-

swers in the end anywhere. Yes, we must take these poison pills of

pop music (or of Christian rock, or of marriage or of incarceration or

of institutionalization) by going through all the motions of enjoyment,

dancing in all the false glory of approximate relation with the You, cov-

ered in the bloody vomitus of rejection and crucifixion, even going so

far as to ask the band for autographs. We will go through these mo-

tions and then the You will bless us anyway!

I say here that institutional marriage is fundamentally non-relational. I

feel as if I should back this assertion with some confessional evidence.

Certainly marriage can be relational, but in the institutional vision of

marriage (where the state authority ultimately becomes the relating

mechanism,) strangles all awareness of the You, through either sheer

persistence (when a married person is naïve enough to believe in the

foundational permanence or institutional holiness of their marriage, be-

“T he fiery matter of all my capacity to will

surging intractably, everything possible for

me revolving primevally, intertwined and seemingly

inseparable, the alluring glances of potentialities

flaring up from every corner, the universe as a

temptation, and I, born in an instant, both hands

into the fire, deep into it, where the one that in-

tends me is hidden, my deed, seized: now! And

immediately the menace of the abyss is subdued;

no longer a coreless multiplicity at play in the iri-

descent equality of its claims; but only two are

left alongside each other, the other and the one,

delusion and task.” ~Martin Buber, I and Thou

bringing peace and breathing shalom life in christ relating rightly to all things,

Amen.

Thou pharisees, hear: the abolition of the law is the law's fulfillment!

What use has God for law? As there is none above the law, So neither can there be any under it;

for what we call absolute relates neither to the sacred Being nor to the profane Becoming.

We can have no footing in the law as it requires no human understanding, yet demands our unthinking obeisance.

What was given as law demonstrates the futility of law: ultimately it can assign no meaning...

Neither to suffering neither fear neither divorce neither sorrow neither death on a tree.

our only call, abolish law-thought to awaken presently to rise restoring wholeness, refusing suffering

coming disillusioned slowly,) or alternately by imposing legal limits on

human behavior that are often more economic than emotive. In the

case of divorce is where we can most clearly see the brutal artifice of

institutional marriage. And here I confess: when I was divorced the

state was not interested in relational restoration, no matter how rea-

sonable the idea might have been. A judge who never once saw my

face, never once heard my opinion, never once allowed me to speak,

asked my wife if she thought our marriage was broken, to which my

wife replied with very little emotion, yes. This jurist then declared with

an air of seriousness and permanence

that there was no room for grace,

redemption, hope, restoration, or the

renewed movement of spirit between

two human beings, for as long as we

both shall live. I confess, relationally:

in that moment my faith in the un-

breakable bonds of human love was

replaced by an understanding of insti-

tutional marriage as a sanctimonious

sham — it was either that, or to pre-

tend cynically that my wife and I never

actually experienced the

“unbreakable” bonds of love. The

sham of marriage is revealed in di-

vorce, when one or both partners try

to erase the real relationality of the

past. This is the true meaning of Eter-

nal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, in which Joel (Jim Carrey) and Clemen-

tine (Kate Winslet) hire a mad scientist to erase all trace of their rela-

tionship from their physical memories.

N o decree of the state — divorce, being one example — can effec-

tively nullify the notion of sacred relationality. In the case of the

idolatry of marriage as I have said, it can be both relational and sacred,

(indeed if it is one it is both). But this can only happen outside of the

authority of the “It-word.” Here is the inversion of state authority

made clear: in the case that one or both parties understand the state

authority to be the framework of marriage, in that case real relation-

ship is impossible. But in the case that real relationship does occur,

state authority has only the power to issue decrees against it, until such

time as both parties begin to believe those decrees, that is, one or both

parties internalize the violence of the state, relating primarily to it, and

not the other. The most radical thing, it is said, to do is to stay in love

forever.

T his is what Jesus teacher means

when he discusses the institution of

divorce certificates (in Matt. 19, Mark

10, Luke 16) — they can only realisti-

cally act upon the objects (the di-

vorcees) by means of approximating

ligatures of false static authority. In

Jesus’ teaching on divorce, what is ac-

tually nullified is the state’s idea of

marriage — economic relation, breed-

ing rights, and cohabitational proximi-

ty. What cannot be nullified is the

meaning that love should always but

only occasionally successfully aspires

to. In the relational paradigms of Jesus

and Paul, it is made explicitly clear that

divorce is not an annulment of respon-

sibility, divorce (or sometimes widow-

hood) is not a moral license to fuck

strangers, not a time to go spouse-shopping, not an ethical absolute of

any kind. “Moses gave you divorce because your hearts were hard-

ened” reveals to us a historiography of divorce in the Judaic tradition,

whereby institutional marriage was fatally flawed to begin with. In Je-

sus’s teaching even the closest of relationships (“the two become one

flesh”) can fail in the task of actually, essentially, relating, and the He-

brews were so bad at this relating that even Moses gave up on the is-

sue. What an indictment! Jesus teacher suggests to us the present po-

tential of holy Youness at the heart of sacred relationships, in our own

hearts. Jesus clarifies what matrimonial relationality should look like —

this essential merging of identities — and only upholds the sanctity of

marriage in the way that all relationships should be sanctified.

T he story of the Hebrew people is the story of an attempted restora-

tion of You-awareness. Abram and Sarai get called from their Mes-

opotamian city-state because they are “faithful” — they were the most

celebrated idealists to drop out of civilization, to go practice rogue the-

ology on the fringes. Then the Hebrews were enslaved by another em-

pire that was unable to relate rightly. Egypt was a labyrinth of idola-

trous awarenesses, gnostic mechanisms and causal reasoning. Even

after the liberation, the exodus, they could still not relate rightly to the

holy You, to each other, to their neighbors or the earth itself. Pro-

phetic action, the redemptive purpose of Yahweh, is all aimed at this

relational ideal. But there are those who would rather chose to see

the world through the lens of It-awareness.

“T he capricious man does not believe and encounter. He does not

know association; he only knows the feverish world out there and

his feverish desire to use it.Ӡ The choice to see things in this way is

quite profitable: it allows a person to do exploitation, an impossibility

in the You-awareness. Because of the nature of property, it is nearly

impossible to be wealthy in terms of property while aware of the You

in all life; worldly poverty becomes much preferable to wealth. And

yet the true poverty is the poverty of It-awareness. This is also the

case for power: the state, the man of the state, and all worldly authori-

ty sees the world, other institutions, other culture, merely as a means,

“T he basic word I-It does not come from evil — any more

than matter comes from evil. It comes from evil — like

matter that presumes to be that which has Being. When man

lets it have its way, the relentlessly growing It-world grows over

him like weeds, his own I loses its actuality, until the incubus

over him and the phantom inside him exchange the whispered

confession of their need for redemption.” ~Martin Buber, I and Thou

or as a potential means. It is nearly impossible to relate to life and to

have power over it. Notional power in its I-It usage engages in the act

of exclusivity. There is no concept of power to the capricious man un-

able to believe or encounter, which is not exclusive. It is not power, to

that way of thinking, which denies the reflexivity of exclusiveness — I

cannot have power over a person if he or she continues to exercise

their own power or freedom. This is the poverty of imagination which

infects the authority-awareness, for power, wealth, violence, domina-

tion and sexual objectification.

A s the eternal You drew itself above the surface of the waters of cha-

os, even then its word was there, abiding rightly in Your eternal

promise of meaning. Renew in us the relational essence, the language

of Youness, as we seek You once again.

any more

like

matter that presumes to be that which has Being. When man

world grows over

him like weeds, his own I loses its actuality, until the incubus

over him and the phantom inside him exchange the whispered

† p. 109. All references to Buber, I and Thou, transl. Walter Kauffman

B efore he died more than half a century ago, one of the pop-spiritualists, a

west-coast poet and writer, told his followers to move to central Virginia, be-

cause, he prophesied, the coming spiritual revolution would be located there.

Many of the devotees were deeply disappointed and chose to stay in California,

but some – the committed ones who believed in the message of their guru –

made the pilgrimage in a bizarre, eastward-ho! manifest destiny mass movement.

These faithful wanted to partake in the inward realization of peace and love; they

wanted to birth the new cosmic consciousness, to behold a new era of harmony

on earth – and they are still here waiting patiently.

You were a child of the devoted ones, a product of irrational faith, and you grew

up in the midst of the Reagan military-industrial-complex, beltway-analyst boom,

surrounded by Northern Virginia Mormons with their top-secret government clear-

ances, stuck in their consumerite suburban enclaves. You were hipster chic a

generation too early, dark hair dark glasses dark eyes dark fingernails dark boots.

You used to skip school and wander the civil war battlefields, listening to rap mix-

tapes on your Walkman. You used to lay there in the confederate breastworks,

communing with the ghosts of rebels while everyone else was stuck behind four

walls: “Buehler… Buehler…”

When I moved to this town you had been there first, and I never even made it to

the bougie whitewashed cultivation-center where we supposedly went to school.

Waiting for the bus that first day, I’ll never forget how you said, “Hey. Haven’t

seen you before. Look, it’s too bad you had to end up here in this Babylon.

Short Fiction: Religion is Where You Used To Be

Michelle Riceour

Wanna ditch this bullshit?” I shrugged. You were animated by a strange habit of

movement I never understood. I smiled restlessly. “My mom warned me about

girls like you.”

“Come with me.” You stubbed out your cigarette and took my hand; you led me

off through the morning mists to the battlefield graveyard without another word.

Then we sat down together on “Cpl. J.J. Hestor, Penn. Cav., d. 1863” – sunken

grave. “Stupid kids these days, never appreciating history.” You didn’t laugh. I

tried harder. “Corporal Hestor and his lucky clown nose. Them rebs just didn’

understan’.” You snorted a laugh, still holding my hand. I was about to say

“Surely he is resting in the bosom of Abraham,” but your lips pressed on mine

swiftly and hungrily, and your beat lovely body was suddenly close to mine. That

moment will forever be fresh to my mind, the way we implicitly bent to our places

in the tale of human spiritual evolution, venting teenage frustrations the old-

fashioned way.

It is only now, decades later that I realize the centrality of that moment for what it

was. Y2K, 9/11, Mayan Apoco-2012 came and went with no word from you, and

no great awakening either. The new age dawned, old calendar sputtered ex-

hausted and terminated, and here I am — presumably happy — still.

Your old battered battlefield is now a Family Dollar parking lot full of old buicks,

and your Civil War graveyard is an Arby’s. The megachurches sell espresso

while the old fieldstone chapels gather cobwebs, standing silent. Your Walkman

is sitting uselessly in a Northern Virginia landfill that is hermetically-sealed, where

it will no doubt remain unchanged for another ten thousand years, with an old

Arrested Development tape stuck in the heads. I have often wanted to go find it.

Where the fuck are you? You’re not on facebook, I’ve checked, you never in-

dulged in those narcissims — I shouldn’t be surprised. And that is the problem

now: to me, you might as well be dead.

I want to tell you about my religion. You knew about those things, even when we

were teenagers – spiritual shit and all that. I want to tell you that I’ve found god:

a god who can meet my needs before the gym closes, a god who doesn’t mind if

I can no longer sit through a service without checking my fucking face page sta-

tus. My god is a compliant one whose only immovable position is his homopho-

bia. These fat fucking whiney people who sleep in my bed, eat my food, call me

“honey” and “daddy” – they will never know about you, how you saved me, how

you baptized me with your youthful spirit. They will never know that the prophecy

was fulfilled, that the revolution happened here, between our two bodies some-

time between 2nd period English and 4th period Biology. Only we can ever know.

My God doesn’t answer prayers, so I pray to you if only from habit: come, find

me, take my hand, and lead me away from all this to the place where religion

used to be.