Random thoughts.

I've more or less stopped writing here, but I've found a renewed interest in recording my thoughts. I was about to start an entirely different blog, but I feel sort of attached to this old thing. Despite writing and thinking being a huge part of my current work, I've found myself missing this outlet. That is, the informal and non-academic sort of writing. So I hope to be around a bit more.

This Xmas...

It's been an interesting year.

We embarked on an interstate move. I started a new program, and she started a new job. Everything went from being too familiar to too foreign. We went from being known by many to anonymity. And I suspect we have changed the trajectory of our lives in ways that we can't begin to understand today.

We haven't been very successful in finding a community here yet. I guess we haven't really tried. We've met new people on occasion, but don't feel like a part of anything. Truth be told, I don't think I've felt a part of anything in a very long time. Don't get me wrong, I have really great friends, but as we grew into adulthood, careers, and lifestyles placed distances (in some cases geographic in others ideological) between us. For the most part, the nearness, the shared experiences, the growing up together has faded. And the lengthy, sometimes, meandering conversations that seemed so instrumental at one time in our mutual growth and development have been replaced with queries about work promotions, parenting, and gasoline prices. We used to talk about dreams, hopes and even grave disappointments. This seems to be the natural course of things. The kind of change that no one seems particularly happy about, but that we all (or at least most) give way to. But it strikes me as something particularly regrettable at the moment.

It's been a really difficult year.

The program has been incredibly challenging. I thought about quitting, daily. I've felt like an impostor, often---like they made a mistake in accepting me and that I'm somehow not properly suited for the gig. I've also gone to a lot of dark places this year. I've struggled with my inner demons and have come out losing more often than not.

But I've learned a lot. Not only about philosophy, but about myself...

This year has also brought with it a great deal of turmoil at large. We've had a lot going on in the world and in our country. Professors, students, and at least one well known celebrity have been accused of rape. Some police officers and the justice system have (to put it mildly) found themselves in questionable situations. Other government officials have been tied to the heinous treatment of prisoners. Conflicts persist in the middle east. School shootings continue. Sadly, I'm only scratching the surface. Countless lives have been violated or lost. It's hard to know what to be thankful for when one considers such tragedies.

It's taken as a platitude that one should count one's blessings, particularly during the holidays. That one should sit and reflect on all the good that has occurred in one's life. I suppose that's alright so far as it goes, but I worry that in some cases, this may incline us to think too narrowly. When we think about all the good in our lives, we may miss out on all the suffering around us (of course, there is likely to be suffering in our lives too).

The message of the gospel seems to be that there is hope for the world in a savior. But a savior comes because the world is in need of one. Not just you and me. I've heard people thank God for their salvation, but on rarer occasion, that he died for the sins of the world. Biblical tradition has it that the good news went out (or would go out) to the four corners of the world. That the blessing promised to Israel would not stay with Israel alone, but that gentiles would be ingrafted. So this Xmas, I'm trying to be mindful of all the suffering, and injustice in the world from my comfy middle class vantage point as it were. Maybe at moments, I can muster enough selflessness to think about what I can do to change things. But I'm also trying to think about a promise that seems to have very wide scope which would really be something to be thankful for.

For in Him, all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through Him to reconcile all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross. -Colossians 1:19-20

For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive. -1 Corinthians 15:22

For God has imprisoned all in disobedience so that he may be merciful to all. -Romans 11:32

Then as one man's trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one man's act of righteousness leads to acquittal and life for all men. -Romans 5:18

Just an update for AA.

Sunday evening is winding down and it's a soothing, quasi-fall night in Ann Arbor.  It's hard to believe that we have been here over a month already. It's interesting for me to think that if we were still in Arizona, we would be in the thick of what feels like an interminable summer-- and from what I gather from people there, a muggy summer at that from the recent downpours. I don't miss that weather in the least, but I know that I'll miss the desert soon, as everyone here is already talking about the imminent cold winter. But for now, Michigan is straddling the line between summer and a short fall and it's just really something.

I am starting to feel a bit more settled here as one might expect. After spending over 20 years in Arizona, there was undoubtedly an adjustment period to a cross-country move. As I had anticipated upon our initial arrival, it was hard to distinguish our move from being on vacation. The newness of everything is exciting. Every corner provides a new discovery and there is something about pursuing the unknown that I think is deeply ingrained in the human psyche. For better or worse, history is full of explorers --persons that were not satisfied with the all too familiar, the status quo. People have always sought out a new world, the foreign, the unusual. In a small way, I suppose this desire to explore in me, has been fulfilled for the time being.

It's quite beautiful here-- incredibly verdant. There are massive trees everywhere and it has rained every few days. The air quality is also something I have noticed.  it reminds us of being up in northern Arizona---in the evenings and early mornings, there is a briskness and the occasional whiff of a fireplace burning in the distance that I've come to associate with being in the mountains. Some nights when I look out of our balcony into the deep darkness (there are very few street lights in town), it feels like we are away at camp. At the same time, Ann Arbor, as a college town, is bustling with the sort of activity that only young persons, many of whom have discovered independence for the first time, can provide. I've also noticed that there are far more interracial couples than I am used to coming from Arizona. It's actually quite common here. Part of this is no doubt due to the fact that there seems to be a diverse population in and around the town (which also means a lot of good restaurants featuring different cuisines). All in all, I guess you can say that I am really starting to like it here.

It is a strange feeling having relocated for school. I stayed close to home during my undergraduate and masters programs and didn't really think I'd ever move, particularly so late in the game. The majority of my time is dedicated to reading and thinking and it still strikes me as strange that I am getting paid to do this.

As for the program, it's incredible. It ranks among the top handful of Philosophy programs in the world, and I'm reminded of this every time that I interact with the other students that all seem far smarter than me. They are incredibly sharp, well read in philosophy, and have enviable academic backgrounds to boot. So while I feel fortunate to be here, I also find it very challenging at times. Truth be told, I've had a hard time adjusting to the caliber of this department and started questioning whether I really belong here shortly after the semester started. I just haven't had to work this hard to keep my head above water before. But I am told that this is a rather standard experience so hopefully it gets better in time. But I love being able to sit and read for hours on end about really interesting things--for it to be my sole job to research, discuss and write about philosophy.

The professors in the department that I have worked with are all extremely accomplished--many of them world-renowned in their subfields and yet manage to be very accessible and easy to talk to--the sorts of teachers that I hope to be like someday. They also treat the graduate students more like colleagues rather than subordinates and even use graduate seminars as opportunities to receive feedback on books and papers they are in the process of writing.  There are also a number of reading groups set up by students and attended by faculty members, and weekly talks, and also a big conference coming in October. So all in all, there's a lot going on here and a lot that I'm grateful for despite the challenges.

Time Travel

Last night, I watched a movie entitled, "Before Midnight." It's the third installment of a series that I have  liked (the other two being, "Before Sunrise" and "Before Sunset").

It was a profoundly sad film, but not in any obvious manner. Nothing too egregious occurs. The plot isn't that complicated (well, it is, but not in a traditional way). It isn't the end of the world, no one has cancer, no one tragically dies in a car accident. Still, it left me feeling profoundly sad.

The first of the series was filmed in the 90's. On the surface, the story is simple. A couple meet on a train somewhere in Europe (he is an American 20 something and she is a French 20 something). They spend one full day together but don't exchange any contact information (because they think it is tragic when a relationship just sort of fizzles out over time). The movie is nothing but the two walking around in the streets of Vienna and having very realistic conversations about life, upbringing, relationships and (psuedo) philosophy, etc. It is about connecting with a complete stranger.

The second movie picks up 9 years later (both in the plot and in real time). They are now in their early thirties. He has written a book about their encounter and she seeks him out at a reading in Paris. They are both older, a touch more cynical about life. He is unhappily married to another woman but the film ends with the strong suggestion that the two main characters will end up together. Again the movie just follows them in (this time in Paris), talking.

This last installment that I just watched has them now in their 40's (again both in real life and in the plot). It's an incredible idea to have a trilogy that spans nearly 3 decades in this way. As the writers have it, they are now married with two little girls. They seem to get along fine, but both have resided into that middle aged couple role--it's about the kids, and mostly about negotiating logistics of everyday responsibilities, now. I think the writer could have easily made it about some super couple that is just as madly in love with each other in their 40's as they were in their 20's and in some sense, that may have been truer to the first two films (while in another, perhaps more important sense, it would have violated the spirit of the first two). But I guess, the writer knew better.

They are middle-aged now. Their faces and bodies are weathered from years of wear and tear. There is little trace left of the romantic idealism (and other sorts of idealisms)  once so prevalent in the previous two movies. They look upon another young couple (that are probably in their 20's) with a look that expresses, "I remember when..." It's as if their love story is no longer the stuff of stories--their time has passed. And the entire, what might be considered as the third act, (if there are separate acts in this film) centers around an incredibly realistic argument that occurs between the couple. Yes, it's like nearly an hour of arguing in a very realistic fashion. She feels like she has always had to sacrifice her life for his happiness; she says she isn't happy. She leaves their room repeatedly, before returning to make a further point. He feels like he's dedicated his life to her, (though he does not deny an occurrence of infidelity). In the end, nothing is really resolved, but they fight late into the night until they are both too tired to go on. If the story were to continue, the conflict would arise again inevitably and there would be no easy solution---at least that is the sense I get from the end of the film. But the movie concludes with the two of them sitting at a coffee table--her eyes are wrapped in tears from a recent cry, but they are trying their best to flirt as if to paint over the ongoing conflict for a time, to face it another day. The conflict is deep and unlikely to be resolved within the span of a film.

It is common to wince when say, a scene in a horror film is too realistic. When the blood and gore looks all too recognizable--to some extent we experience what we might expect someone actually in the portrayed scenario to experience. Even though we may not have ever experienced the scenarios depicted on film, we relate to them because it seems and feels real to us. Our mirror neurons fire, pupils dilate, muscles tense up, we go into fight or flight mode and somehow it all bounces around in our souls. I suppose I experienced something similar with this film. Of course, there wasn't any blood or guts, but it seemed so sincere and painful.

The arguments, the evolution of a relationship, the disappointment and impermanence.... it all seemed so real.

This morning, I was thinking about all of this on my drive to work. Mixed in among these thoughts were flashes of my goals and aspirations over the last decade or two. When I was very young, I wanted to be a lawyer (really because my mom said it would be good for me). But then I wanted to be a pro athlete (I think every boy goes through this sort of phase), then a rockstar, and now a professional philosopher. I've chased some of these dreams with more effort than others, and the last 5 years have been dedicated to my last endeavor (as will the next 5-6+). What hit me this morning though was the fact that pursuing a goal means making a sort of complicated transaction. The currency passed between hands isn't merely the effort and the financial investment it is also an exchange of time (and all that that entails). Years of our lives devoted to learning a skill or trade, climbing the corporate ladder, or what have you. And our bodies, our minds, our relationships will feel the strains of our time travel, they will flip the bill.  We will rush ahead through our lives and can never have that time back. I wonder if all that I would like to achieve or obtain in my life is really worth the cost....is it really worth my life?

Easter and Evidence

This morning Katie and I read John 20 together. It is the story of Jesus's empty tomb and his postmortem appearances to Mary and the disciples (including doubting Thomas). One thing I found interesting about the story is that while Mary recognized him when he called her name in the tomb (although she did not recognize him at first), when he appeared to the rest of his followers, the gospel records him as showing them his hands and feet. Of course, it is later noted in the same chapter that Thomas refused to believe it is the Christ (who has indeed returned from the grave) until he has touched his scars. But notice, Thomas wasn't the only one to see his markings (although, perhaps he got a closer encounter since he put his fingers through the holes). What this tells me is that, according to John, Jesus provides evidence of his resurrection to his followers. Note Jesus did not return in some unrecognizable fashion. He didn't return looking like an Eastern Asian lady, or the poster child Caucasian Jesus with long hair as depicted in the West or, God forbid, Judas Iscariot. Though, presumably he could have been embodied in any number of different ways (unless of course, he lacks an immaterial soul). I mean, he could have come in a different body and then talked just like the Jesus they knew and loved. So the question is, why did he show up in the form that his followers were familiar with? Plausibly because people wouldn't have recognized him otherwise and would have found it too incredible to accept that it was really him that had returned from the dead. No, he shows up as himself-- as they knew him. In other words he provides some empirical evidence that he is one and the same Jesus that they saw crucified, hence the revealing of his hands and feet. I find this interesting.

But then in the 29th verse John records these words of Christ: "Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." Of course, the latter group represents the vast majority of believers. But we are not graced with the first-hand evidence afforded to the earliest followers. I must wonder then why the evidence was apparently important for those that knew Christ first-hand (during his worldly existence), but why it is withheld from the vast majority of humanity. What is the point? Is the faith that we are to exemplify in some tension with the having of evidence? Or is it simply evidence of a particular type? That is, empirical evidence? Or at least, first hand, empirical evidence? If so, why? What is to be gained? Can our belief in Christ's resurrection be as confident as those that saw the holes in his hands and feet? Can we believe as wholeheartedly as Thomas who not only walked with Jesus, spoke with him and saw him perform miracles, but also after having seen him crucified and killed, saw him alive again and even stuck his fingers through the holes in Christ's flesh?  

Are we, modern day believers, relegated to a shaky belief in the resurrected Christ? We have heard that Christ was risen from the dead (an otherwise outrageous claim) from the gospels. But can we trust what they tell us? Or is there some means, evidence of a different sort, to believe with sufficient confidence in the radical claim that Jesus rose from the dead?  

Where do we go from here?

A lot has been on my mind lately and things are changing as they have a tendency to.  It's been a long year for sure and I am exhausted.  Katie and I are on the precipice of a new chapter in our lives as we leave the church that we have been a part of for nearly four years time.  It is bittersweet as most all significant alterations seem to be, quite bitter though and I can only hope it will prove in time to be at least as sweet.

For one thing, I feel an embarrassment about leaving, because I spent so much time fervently defending this congregation and its unusual doctrines and practices from the criticisms of my friends and family.  But of course, it will strike no one by surprise that I am far from perfect.  Thus I can say that I was wrong.   

Also and more importantly, I feel a significant degree of disappointment.  We joined the congregation looking for answers to deep questions about life and faith, and the church promised to have them.  Initially I found them satisfying but the doubts began to creep in like small abrasions in the walls of an otherwise impressive looking ship.  I began to press on them, to see if they were anything to worry about and doing so allowed small trickles of water in.  Over time more and more of these imperfections seemed to surface and again I had the inclination to apply pressure to them also.  Eventually puddles were forming and making larger and larger cracks in the ship's planks until it was overwhelmed, and it became time to jump ship.  

But what will break my fall?  I am now taking a plunge into the deep, unknown, leaving what was familiar and perhaps even comfortable for a significant portion of my life. Sometimes, it's easier to stay on a sinking boat than it is to leave.  Like a faithful ship captain and crew who would rather die than abandon ship.  But I couldn't convince myself that this was the right thing to do.  I had to leap without having time to consider what would be there to break my fall.

Now I find myself in the cold, fluctuating waves of a vast sea of uncertainty, floating amidst a few distended pieces of wood wondering, "now what, where do we go from here?"

There will undoubtedly be those who won't understand why I jumped or how I could ever see the ship as a sinking one.  Some of these people I respect and deeply care about.  I do know one thing, that I have taken care in making my assessment.  Although I'm far from immune to mistakes, I can honestly say that I did the best that I could do.  I didn't leave hastily, at the first sign of trouble.  I watched and waited, and even tried hard to call attention to others about the compromise in integrity that the vessel seemed to exhibit.  I spent a significant amount of time and effort trying to convince them that there was something wrong and listened seriously to why they thought that everything was fine.  In fact, I would have continued to do so, but it became apparent that I was merely a siren blowing in the wind for which there was not room.

I will miss those that I have gotten to know and can only hope the best for them.  I very much wish that our paths will afford us occasions to sit and share a cup of coffee from time to time and to respectfully disagree about difficult intellectual matters.  This part is particularly hard for me at the moment.  Likely, our lives will diverge from this time forward, but I harbor no ill will for them but rather only that they will find rest and peace in the truth.  

Sometimes, things have to die in order to be born again.  When they die, it can really hurt, but what roots up in its place may be stronger, more beautiful, and perhaps worth the pain, at least this is what we can hope.  I feel scared and alone and I can't make out what lies ahead for us in the distance but I also feel liberated for the first time in a very long while.  Here's to the future.

"He who begins by loving Christianity more than Truth, will proceed by loving his sect or church better than Christianity, and end in loving himself better than all..." - Samuel Coleridge 

my words seem emptier somehow...

I don't know really how to start or where to end.  It seems like the more empty space I leave the better.

I'm devastated and I know a lot of others are as well.  How could we not be? Parents shouldn't have to bury their babies and 3 year old girls shouldn't have to go that way, they shouldn't have to go...   

I can only speculate about how my friends are doing.  How deeply it must ache so as to feel like one is nearly turning inside out and how empty, cold and indifferent the world must appear out there, moving, changing and spinning about even though their lives have now come to a complete stop...  

They must miss her profoundly in a way that wrings out the imagination, where words and thoughts can't go....

Suspended they are in something between reality and a bottomless dream...

   

Reflecting on This Christmas Passed

Winter break has been filled with travel, a week with my wife in Seattle, then an overnight run to Vegas, finally ending with a fly fishing expedition in the White Mountains. Needless to say, I've seen a variety of landscapes in a short amount of time ranging from the deserts to the bustling city emerging out of a peninsula, to the mountains with its trout filled streams and of course, the glittery City of sin.  As a result, my schedule has been anything but regular.  Upon my return home, it took me some time to remember what winter was like or should be like in Arizona and now as I begin to settle in, to recover that familiarity, I find that 2012 is just beyond reach.  

Christmas was for the most part pleasant but I think that means there was a great deal missing.  It gets increasingly more difficult to celebrate Christmas when it is all about hanging out with family, good times, presents and food.  To make matters worse, I find myself going along with the flow, wanting Christmas to be little more than a culmination of these banalities. As the Christmas tunes sing their last notes, and we begrudginly take down our decorations, stuffing them in boxes in which they no longer fit, I find a deep hollowness as cold as winter that is easy to suppress but difficult to ignore entirely.  How strange a feeling, to be filled with food and drink but profoundly empty.

I did realize something about Christmas this season that I hadn't in previous ones.  I have for a number of years struggled with trying to recover the "magic" of the holiday.  Most of you will probably relate to that overwhelming feeling of warmth and mystery that Christmas provided for you as a child.  And if you're like me, then you lament the fact that at some point between the threshold separating childhood and early adulthood, this experience of Christmas  disappeared, never to return again.  Well, I have missed that feeling for years and have tried in vain to recover it.  I have heard many a parent talking about finding something similar, as they experience the holidays vicariously through their children but it isn't quite the same, so they tell me.  So in past years I have tried to find the right tree, the right decorations, or listen to more Christmas music and the like, but I always end up disappointed.  After years of this nonsense, it finally struck me this year that perhaps what I have been trying so hard to again find isn't worth recovering in the first place.  I realize that I might sound like a heartless scrooge at the moment, but hear me out. 

There is a verse in scripture that has always resonated with me.  Paul in his letter to the Corinthians  writes, "When I was a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child, but when I became a man I put off childish ways..." (1 Cor 13:11).  When I was a child, I loved Christmas because it meant that I would get gifts and lots of food and desserts and get to see sparkly lights everywhere.  It meant that school was out for a couple of weeks and I could play without having to worry about homework or exams.  And I felt a sense of security being with my family in our home as if nothing could happen to us.  But I am starting to think that all of this is merely jejune thinking.  Life is not a matter of bodily pleasures, nor is it about food and drink or presents, or false senses of security.  Thinking as a child of course may be acceptable for children, but even here I think if we are good parents, we strive progressively to nurture and reform their cognitive habits. But it is utterly unbecoming to think like a child when you are an adult because it means you haven't quite grown up or matured.  Of course, you can refuse to grow up like Peter Pan and I think this is precisely what Michael Jackson attempted to do, but there was always something tragically sad about the unhealthy life of the king of pop.

I think that for good reason we do not often depend on the dispositions of children to guide the important decisions in our lives.  Sagacious parents who want to raise healthy kids will not leave it to their eight year olds to determine how to manage the household budget, or come up with the grocery list, or choose the best educational curriculum or institution.  Similarly, I wouldn't rely on the judgments of a child to tell me about the meaning of a fine piece of literature, art or music.  At times children may exhibit precociousness and we might heed such advice but this is only because it resembles the thoughts of a mature adult. And so it seems to me that perhaps I shouldn't let the child in me define the meaning of such a cosmically significant occasion such as Christmas and that if I do, I do so to my own peril.

Here's to striving towards a more meaningful holiday next year and leaving my childhood where it belongs, in the past.  

Finishing Strong And Rightly

Obviously, I have changed the look of my blog. After years of that old, dusty, rather monochromatic layout I thought it was time for a change. I even added one of those Ipod music players with some of the songs I often find myself listening to these days.

I am at school to complete a full day of reading, thinking, and hopefully writing.

By Saturday, this campus becomes a ghost town and I can go for long stretches of time without running into so much as a shadow of another.  As I write this, I am sitting outside in an obscure part of the school (as the library does not open for another twenty minutes or so).  It is lukewarm outside, silent, and empty and I feel at ease, truly a rare sentiment for me these days.

I have been fighting some persistent blues lately in addition to chronic heartburn (which is totally an old person's ailment). I'm sure there's an interesting metaphorical connection between heartburn and my heaviness of soul but for now, I lack the patience to draw it out.

"I was born in an abundance of inherited sadness..." - Ryan Adams

I've been hearing rumors of Fall (possibly the shortest, most beautiful season in the Southwest) for the last three weeks, but it's been persistently warm lately and I'm losing patience.  Truth be told, the climate hasn't been horrible in recent days, but this summer seemed unusually long for me and I don't like anything resembling it.

School has been difficult because I just feel so uninspired, as if I have nothing new or original to say. I find myself almost in perfunctory manner reading, memorizing (and often forgetting) a lot of things that others have said, but I find it rather difficult to make any sort of contribution, which is a problem if one wants to make it as a professional philosopher. Seriously, many of these philosophers are just REALLY bright; I don't think it necessarily makes them correct in all or even some of their beliefs, but a clever, incisive, and creative bunch they certainly are more than any other group of persons I have encountered by far.

I continue to waiver in terms of what it is that I want to do with my life.  I think I tend to feel this way whenever the going gets tough.

This morning I began reading a journal article on an epistemological view called "Fallibilism."  And as I peeled back the title page and began journeying through the first few lines, I was full of excitement.  One word naturally followed another as did line after line and page after page, flowing like an uninterrupted river.  It was effortless, and exhilirating and my mind was flooded by interesting thoughts.  This is how I feel often when I begin reading either a book or an article.  But then as the day wears on, things inevitably slow down and it get's laborious and my mind grows weary. I then have to start policing my attention to keep it from wandering, often having to reread entire paragraphs at which point I start to seriously entertain the idea of calling it quits.  And so it is with so many of my endeavors and so it is with life.  We set out on a journey, a road trip, a career path, a goal with great excitement at its onset.  Like a bat out of hell we leave the stables but then we encounter bumps and thistles, and grow tiresome and when the scenery hasn't changed for hours we begin to wonder why we left home or started out in the first place.  But it seems to me that hurrying through the first few pages of an article is of little merit in itself. Really, anyone can do that.  Armed with idealism and adrenaline most runners start the marathon just fine.  But the real race is long and difficult and the winner must cross not only the starting line, but the finish too.

I know I started talking about what to do with my life with regards to a career, but really this is all analogous to something more important; it is actually in part, the message found in the parable of the sower.

Sometimes I fear that I will wind up like those seeds that fell along the rocks, which with great enthusiasm received the word initially, but failed to be rooted and thus, as the troubles of this life came, fell away.  That is to say, they failed to finish what they with great zeal began.  I think it is easy to think of "receiving the word initially" as pertaining to an obviously short period of time like a day or a month or even a few years, but it seems to me that anything short of "finishing the race" might qualify.  What if I've been sitting on the rocks for a decade?

I am also reminded of the following, "what should it profit a man if he gain the whole world but lose his own soul?" Upon hearing such, I have most often thought of those persons that are obviously from the "get-go" after riches, or fame or what have you over and above seeking the Kingdom of God.  But I think that doesn't do justice to the rhetorical question.  What about the person that starts with a sprint, but at some point gets distracted along the way and ends up unawares, on the wrong path?  Perhaps such a person might even persist right through to the end, quite possibly being the first to break the finish line only to find himself having run a different race altogether, thereby also being disqualified (along with the seeds on the rock).  How pathetic a sight that would be. To exert a lifetime of effort all for naught. To have finished the wrong race.

In either case we find that there are more ways to fall than there are to stand up straight.  The race is long and difficult, the path is narrow and straight but it is the only one that leads to life.


Dear Self,

You often worry so much about "not making it" to the end of something like your semester, or your graduate program or your career path, or whatever, but these are in comparison, the least of your concerns.  You have foremost to make it to the end of this spiritual journey and it is one heck of a ride; it is going to be arduous and will take everything you have and more.  But take heart, for He is with you even to the end of the age and His grace is sufficient. 


Regards,
Me

All You Need is Love?

In my epistemology seminar last night we discussed a couple articles by a famous philosopher of epistemology, Jim Pryor (NYU) who writes against a particular kind of skepticism about the external world. One of my fellow students made a joke last night that we should agree with Pryor in what appeared to be a stalemate of a dialogue because at least he was featured in Esquire magazine wearing a $2K suit. My curiosity getting the better of me, I looked him up this morning and sure enough there was the NYU professor, one of many in a photo gallery titled, "The Meaning of Life Meets Winter Style" which included a number of "academics" and "religious leaders" playing dress up for the camera and sharing some words of "wisdom". Among the participants was Jay Bakker (the son of Jim and Tammy Faye). What he said stood out to me:

"It's all about compassion for each other. A lot of times, people are too busy arguing over what their theology is or what their politics are or their sexuality is, and they miss out on all the good stuff in life. All the connecting with other people and loving them for who they are, not for who we want them to be."

Even before my encounter with this electronic edition of Esquire, I have heard many a believer criticizing Jim Bakker. This is because he has been for some years an advocate for homosexuality and gay marriage at the same time being an evangelical pastor. If his quote is any indication of his general philosophy then it isn't at all surprising to me that he is quite liberal in his account of Christianity.

The thing that gets me is that I know a number of Christians that would agree with Jim Bakker's sentiments here. I have heard these words almost verbatim among a number of my fellow believers, usually intended as a criticism against my views about what faith in Christ consists of. So then why do these same persons find Bakker's sympathy for homosexuality offensive? That part is quite vexing to me...

If you think Christianity is summed up in being accepting and compassionate to others (in the rather unqualified way that Bakker seems to intend), then you should certainly extend this inclusiveness to those of a different sexual orientation than you. Otherwise you will have to get caught up in one of those nasty theological and political (and ultimately philosophical) debates. The problem of course is that it wouldn't make sense to stop at this issue (that is, stop at criticizing or arguing over homosexuality). Rather if you are being consistent, any and all issues of a "theological and political" nature should be off limits for fear of "not getting along." But then imagine what such an account of the Christian faith might amount to. By "loving people for who they are" (in contrast to asking them to change) the straight and narrow path will be replaced by to something akin to a five lane autobahn which may seem liberating at first, but will in the end render the Christian worldview utterly unrecognizable and thereby emptying the cross of any intelligibility.

Now I can imagine some of my well intending friends saying that homosexuality is explicitly spoken against in scripture and so they have grounds for rejecting Bakker's specific position on homosexuality while adopting his general philosophy of inclusiveness. Such a view would mean that whatever is explicitly stated in scripture is non negotiable (i.e., this constitutes the core of the faith) while all the other issues which have divided believers are not worth arguing over.

But this is hardly an improvement. For one thing a great number of "orthodox" Christian doctrines are not explicitly stated in scripture. For instance the doctrine of the trinity, the dual nature of Christ, the rulings against the practice of polygamy among others. If you think that Christianity consists solely of express statements in scripture then you will have to do away with such ideas. After all, each of these has historically been the topic of much controversy (see Arianism, and Docetism, Christian Polygamy), that is, they have been the source of great debate, schism and worse. Furthermore, there are homosexual "believers" that simply claim that any part of the bible condemning homosexuality isn't actually the "word of God." The acute difficultly this brings to the surface is this: if you think only what is explicitly stated in scripture is what makes up the Christian faith, then how do you know what should belong in the canon and what should be excluded (i.e., how do you know that the canonization of scripture wasn't arbitrary) in the first place.

Obviously to say that the bible tells you what should be included in it would be a very unsatisfactory response on pain of circularity. The persons that compiled the books of the bible did not have the bible to go off of...

A few more notes on Bakker's quote:

1) Bakker says it's all about compassion. I have heard something to this effect quite often. In fact, Christ is said to exemplify compassion if anything. As I previously noted, the problem is that this sort of notion is far too vague and presupposes that we all have a univocal view about what it means to extend compassion. I used to work with the homeless population in town, and some of them honestly just wanted money to buy meth and preferred this to the food and water we were offering. Now there are some persons (of questionable intelligence) that believe that compassion should move one to acquiesce to such absurd requests (that is, to buy such persons drugs) while others would find it simply egregious to feed such a destructive habit. So saying, "it's all about compassion" isn't very helpful by itself; we need to get clearer on what we mean by "compassionate".

But now notice that only as we begin to define what compassion means, then disagreements inevitably arise. We start to learn that we don't share a single view about what it means to be compassionate much less how to apply this principle in various circumstances. Rather we find that we have conflicting accounts. In light of these disagreements we can appeal to another vague notion e.g., we might say, well since we don't agree on compassion, let's say it's all about love but then the same issue arises of course. What does it mean to "love?" And aren't there mutually exclusive views about love out there? Otherwise, people tend to act like there are not differences: that is, agree to disagree but then this is to make light of the disagreement and I think this doesn't make much sense. I say this because if you simply ignore that there are differences or diminish them by saying that the disagreements do not matter, then I question how much the original principle in question matters in the first place. To illustrate, imagine that I get one of my papers back with two grades on it. It has a red 'A' and then right next to it a equally red 'F'. Now if I simply shrug my shoulders at this event, then I probably didn't care for the meaning of either of the grades in the first place. If this is so, then the original philosophy of Bakker (that one should be compassionate) is a vacuous one. 

2) "A lot of times, people are too busy arguing over what their theology is or what their politics are or their sexuality is, and they miss out on all the good stuff in life."

It is true that arguing over some things is just not worth the cost of air. We could argue about the best burger joint in the world, but that likely won't get anywhere, and perhaps such a discussion is misguided because it plays fast and loose with what we mean by "the best burger joint". It might actually be that when we assert that "Five Guys is the best" we actually mean something closer to, "Five Guys is most pleasing to me" in which case we are speaking of our subjective states and so the argument should be diffusible. In any event, I am admitting that some arguments don't make much sense because they are either wrongly formed or not so important). What isn't so obvious is that political, social and theological arguments (at least the ones that I hear most commonly) are equally so empty. They aren't just about one's own inner states (like in the case of what flavor of ice cream most pleases me), rather they are (either directly or indirectly) about when life begins, what it means to be a moral person, and even what the nature of God is and what it isn't. And perhaps within this category of what I hold to be substantial discussions, we could include the question of what it means to be compassionate both per se and in application. Now it is important to distinguish between how in fact people go about arguing and the principle that we should debate these matters. I have a suspicion that part of what inspires this Jim Bakker kind of disdain for debate is that when such discussions occur, they don't often go very well. But this fact should only get us to revise our approach and work on improving rather than abandoning the discussion altogether, which would only be to throw the baby out with the bath water.

3) "All the connecting with other people and loving them for who they are, not for who we want them to be."

Again, "love" is a lot like "compassion" in that there isn't a single view on what love is and what it looks like to love another. For instance, if I told you to love Hitler, what would that mean to you? He wants to exterminate an entire population of people. So should your "love" for him mean you help him in his endeavors? Should you be there aiding his development of the concentration camps and flipping the switch to the gas chambers? Or should your love for him rather move you to resist him in his committing of the atrocious plans? Shouldn't you want to change him rather than accept him as he is?

There is also the problem that Bakker's philosophy (again in its unqualified form) is self-undermining, but I don't think I need to spell that out...

Then will the eyes of the blind be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped.

Summer is officially upon us and I hear monsoon season is just around the corner. Phoenicians are trained from an early age to respond to complaints about the summer heat here, they respond "its a dry heat" but come late July it gets hot and humid which is pretty miserable and makes you question what is so dry about it. I have just arrived to the school library to do some "research" which basically involves reading philosophy books and articles. I've been working on some stuff on Free will and Divine Foreknowledge and have been posting about it in my other blog (Getting Metaphysical).

I feel melancholic this morning and I feel it deeply.

I have for the most part wasted my summer. I have looked for jobs with no luck, been house shopping, doing some research, but mostly I have gotten lazy and this is really bothering me now. I can only hope to make the most of what days I have left.

I have been thinking about what it means to "make the most of every opportunity" as the apostle Paul admonishes us to do in his letter to the Ephesians. This command is followed by, "knowing that the days are evil" which seems to give us a good context within which we are to understand the first part of the passage. It reminds me that we are in a spiritual war between good and evil, and that what it means to make the most of every opportunity should be defined in light of this fact. But I find that it is (at least in one sense) quite difficult to live as though there is such a weighty conflict happening all around us. There is something about being a middle class American in the 21st century that seems to make any such reality a mere after-thought. Sure things are not perfect here, and we have had our tragedies and will continue to, but for the most part I find myself feeling pretty safe in this world. On my drive here I was listening to the radio program which was interrupted briefly to give a traffic report. There was trendy, upbeat music in the background and the narrator had apparently had plenty of coffee this morning. He proudly and optimistically reported closures and accidents at this and that intersection and whimsically reported a fatality on one of the major highways, and without a hint of remorse his segment was gone with zooming sound effects and all. And I know that it isn't the correct context to express remorse since people just want to hear about what impediments might possibly be in their way to work and the best alternate routes so I am not criticizing him or the program itself. Still it got me thinking that I have the propensity to abstract tragedy even though in reality is it all around and so I wonder why this is the case. Maybe I am deaf and blind...

Here I am, a somewhat average, American twenty-something striving as always to maintain and improve my "quality of life". Wanting to remain as comfortable as possible and often dabbling in decadence when "comfortable" grows into boredom. I want nice clothes, richly exotic and aesthetically pleasing food and drink, devices to entertain me and so on.... vanity, vanity a mere chasing after the wind... What about the wars going on? Well sure, there is the stuff going on in Libya, and in Afghanistan and in parts of Africa, the drug wars in Mexico... but again I can abstract it. I can remain blind and deaf towards it. You know it took me a long time to get beyond a very superficial reading of scripture, of course, I still have my moments and quite frequently at that but I've had some improvement. In any event, when I began altering my approach it was pretty incredible. I have been reading Confessions by St. Augustine who had a similar experience during his coming to the Lord: he had been reading scripture one way (as a literalist) all his life and it was his being taught to approach it a bit more thoughtfully that played a significant role in his leaving the Manichees. I say all this to say that I often find myself reading the events in this life superficially, living not by faith, but by sight. I take things at face value and so life seems pretty serene. Sure there are wars and rumors of wars, but I see them on my t.v. set and can turn them off whenever I please. I can go days without reading the news or listening to the radio if I so please. The problem is that when all is said and done, I keep going back to this deep entrenched belief that I have that appearance = reality.

You see, I keep missing the stuff that is beneath the ostensible. I should be asking, why the heck are there wars in Libya in the first place? Why is there conflict at all? And I should be realizing that there is a spiritual war that underwrites the physical ones. This spiritual war isn't fundamentally between north and south, democracy and communism, democrats vs. republicans, or even Christianity vs. Islam but between belief and unbelief, light and darkness, good and evil. And it is happening within myself such that "the good I want to do, I don't do, and that which I hate I keep doing". I only see this at moments when I am willing to go beyond the way things appear but such times are few and far between.

In Genesis, Eve was said to be enticed by the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. When I was a kid I used to think that the fruit (in my mind a shiny, red apple) itself did something to Adam and Eve, like it had magical juice or something to "open" her eyes. Of course, the fruit itself isn't the significant part, it is the act of disobedience and perhaps behind the disobedience is an ignorance that is culpable. Anyway, it is written:

When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. - Genesis 3:6

Among other things, I think she (and Adam) ought to have known that wisdom isn't gained by consuming some shiny object. The nature of knowledge isn't such. Perhaps in the Matrix, you can sort of download info. but knowledge in the real world is a very different thing. And they heard the Tempter's promise which was likely very seductive and then turned to this pretty little shiny thing and then the first couple fell. Again among other things, they failed to look beyond the surface to what could have been quite obvious (had they been thoughtful in the least), namely, that physical sustenance is distinct in kind from spiritual sustenance and that knowledge doesn't come apart from the fear of the Lord, nor does it come directly from eating something aesthetically pleasing.

So here I am separated from my parents (Adam and Eve), by thousands of miles and thousands of years, but the same old struggle. The reason I feel so comfortable and safe is because I look around and see that things seem for the most part A-Ok. At the moment my eyes see a fine variety of desert trees swaying softly in the wind, they tower over the verdant fields shimmering from the morning dew. The summer sun glitters beneath me in a shallow pool as the waves dance lazily along and birds flirt with one another carelessly as bright yellow flowers open their buds to drink in the day. Idyllic, still, all is well. And I live in prosperity, a modern day Rome full of splendor and arguably the most powerful military that ever was. Modern medicine continues to promise us cures and to help our bodies look younger and live forever. Sure we're in the middle of an economic crisis, but it is hard to tell. Restaurants and shopping malls are bustling, and as Independence day stands just around the corner, people will be firing up the grill, swimming, drinking, eating to excess and being merry as if nothing is happening...

"People were eating, drinking, marrying and being given in marriage up to the day Noah entered the ark. Then the flood came and destroyed them all." Luke 17:27

But all of this is appearance, it is illusory, because it isn't the whole story. I live as though if only my temporal needs were met, I would be fine and this due to the fact that I take things at face value and am mollified by what is pleasing to the eye after all, I am my father's son.

"Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Matthew 10:28

I once wrote about how vague the saying "Carpe diem" is. It just isn't super informative because I don't know what it means to "seize the day". It all seems to depend on what you're after. If I want to be a circus juggler, then seizing the day will mean doing everything I can to improve my juggling, joining the circus and the like. If I want to avoid the circus (maybe I have an irrational fear of bearded ladies) then it will look quite different. Paul I think is exhorting us to sieze the day with respect to the invisible war between the kingdom of light and the kingdom of darkness, it is the only way I can begin to make sense of the life he led.

Finding myself in Numbers

Often I find myself struggling with my place in life. While most all of my friends seem to move along at a "normal" pace, I feel as though I am always thirty minutes late to the show... ok maybe its more like a decade late. Of course this is a struggle for me because at the end of the day I seem to fear man rather than fearing God. I have bought into the lie that life is about having a certain amount of money in the bank (just enough not to worry = an endless supply), a respectable job (a tenured track position at a University), an advanced degree (3 letters following my name please), and the number of proverbial pats on the back I can get (as many as possible). I ought to consider it all rubbish and long to share in his sufferings, but mud pies, mud pies, that is what wets my appetite. I don't really see these things for what they are and this is the problem. In part, I believe that my picture-"perfect" future could not even begin to bring me joy but rather would be only distraction and then in part, like a dog returning to its vomit, I keep accepting the same old b.s. that there are greener pastures just on the other side of the fence.

The other day, a friend of mine asked me what I thought the point of the book of Numbers was and I didn't have a ready answer; since that time I have been thinking some about it. The book opens with the Israelites in their second year of the Exodus from Egypt. It is God bringing his people from the old way (of captivity) to the new way of life, but of course there is a large chasm between the two and this is the sojourn. At the beginning of Numbers, we find the Israelites are at the foot of Mt. Sinai and in we know from having read Leviticus that they have received all the guidelines and laws from God about how they should live. Numbers traces their pilgrimage from Mt. Sinai to the land flowing with milk and honey which should have only been an 11 day or so trek but in actuality takes nearly 40 years. Constantly throughout the book they fall short of seeking the Lord and following his ways and thus they do everything but trust in him. It is titled "Numbers" because God requires I think, two censuses: one at the beginning of the epoch and another towards the end and we see that rather than being fruitful and multiplying, they have decreased substantially in number by the second count of heads; this is because so many have perished in the desert. Still, God is steadfast and is faithful to complete the work that He has started. Eventually as a people, they get to the land, even though an entire generation has passed away (save two faithful men). This book seems to be about the journey of one's faith and what it looks like to go from being an enemy of God to realizing eternal life and particularly about all that stuff in between which looks ugly and is so often frustrating to the point of wanting to throw in the towel. That is, as we live out what is an admixture of faith and unbelief, it feels at times like we are just running circles. Numbers is a narrative about God in his awesome mercy breaking our stiff necks so that we may turn our eyes from evil and fix them upon the author and finisher of our faith.

Pretend

I almost changed my blog template, but at the last minute couldn't get myself to do it. I'm not sure why. I mean I haven't posted anything in ages and almost as seldom have I written anything that wasn't assigned. I hope to change that though; I really would like to begin blogging again even semi regularly, but no promises. So anyway, regarding the template, I find myself attached to the picture of the empty road that bends into the unknown; I am of course still on this journey and it continues to provide me with plenty of surprises...

Today I was reading the book of Isaiah and I came across some interesting passages that I thought I wanted to remember which is what has prompted me to blog. The first of such scriptures is found in chapter 42, beginning in verse 16 it reads,

"I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth..."

What powerful imagery.

Often I respond obstinately when I have to learn something new (at least when the new direction implies my old way was insufficient). And what about a blind person who has had their sight restored? How radical that change must be. I once watched a documentary about one such case where a blind person upon having their sight restored (she was not blind from birth), had to, in a real way "relearn" to function with her revived modality. Such persons tend to find their walking, moving and balance being affected and they find their newly realized sight to be cognitively overwhelming; talk about an acid trip.

I too have been relearning to see again, a process I anticipate perpetuating for a very long time. And it has been difficult to say the least. I have in effect left the faith of my youth because there was nothing in it worth keeping. Thus for the last two years or so I have been walking through all new terrain, with new instruments that feel clumsy in my hands and new guides (who's voices I don't always recognize). I have been trying to catch new wine but often finding remnants of my old wineskin that are just not fit for the job. Following a downpour, I show up to the Father with a dribbling old decantur and a few droplets of liquid. In light of such shortcomings, I find myself tempted to run back to what was once so familiar and comfortable to me, and I grumble about how things were 'once upon a time' better and wonder why I was ever led out, led out of Egypt. Was I led out in the desert to die? I often wonder...

It is likely that most folks will be able relate to something of this sort, since change is all around us. Often we have to readjust to our surroundings, to new methods and the like and I don't know what your journey is about or what changes have entered your neighborhood. I don't think that all such change is inherently good (nor is it itself bad) and so perhaps your discomfort is some indication that you should return home because the way you're headed is a dead end; but I don't know your story. I do know that on better days I have been convinced that my new found journey is the better way (even though it seems often so straight and narrow) and that there really is nothing left for me in the past but a great deal of immaturity and selfishness. On worse days I feel not up to the task, as if I was called to it by mistake, as if I do not quite belong. But I guess that is the point. I am in fact an impostor, left to myself. I feel humbled at the moment which has been happening quite often lately and I realize at least for the moment, that I have been brought to the desert not to perish but to be tested and humbled just as those who have gone before me (Deuteronomy 8:16).

I hope and pray for patience during the tumult native to this stage of the journey both in my life as well as in my dealings with others who may also be learning how to see for the first time.

Religious

You've probably heard at one time or another something to the effect: Not religion, but relationship. This is a common slogan I hear a lot these days. I think it stems from a misunderstanding of the term religion. Another related platitude is, "I don't do organized religion." But what is religion? What does it mean to be religious? It seems to me that we can strip all sorts of things from common notions of religion and find that most essentially religion is a system or set of beliefs. Or to be religious is to hold to a set of beliefs that have a particular relationship to one another. So where does this notion that religion or being religious is something intrinsically undesirable come from?

People throughout history have done atrocious things, this is a fact. Of course they continue to do so and often in groups. Moreover, coteries have philosophies, that is, they share some common interests which involve shared beliefs. Some of these groups profess belief in transcendent entities. Some of them promulgate belief in God. And some of these persons even do horrendous things in the name of God. Clumsy critics point to the beliefs or sets of beliefs for what the people do with them. Even in the case that atrocities are inconsistent with the professed beliefs, these critics take such occasions as something wrong with the belief systems intrinsically. But this of course is nothing more than a mistake. I mean just because Bob says he believes in Zeus and kills babies because he believes that Zeus wants him to, does not mean that belief in Zeus itself is problematic. We have a missing premise to get to that conclusion. Something about how belief in Zeus logically entails the carrying out of infanticide. Or even perhaps some level of scientific correlation between the holding of a particular set of beliefs and the act of baby killing.

I don't know too much about how other religions have responded to this attack on Religion as a whole. I do know that Christians have responded by rejecting the term "religion" and I think this is a mistake. Two wrongs don't make a right. If critics have made a poor assessment in identifying the behavior of some to be constitutive of Religion as a whole and thereby have condemned belief systems, then we ought not respond by assenting to their mistake. What we should do is point out where the mistake is and correct it. If you define religion by considering what some people have done with it, then you've done a poor job in your defining. The holding of certain beliefs does not by itself lead to evil; that is too broad a brush stroke. This is the line of thinking that people have bought into. Why don't we press our critics to define just what they mean by religion and not let them get away with poor categories and definitions. And anyway, running from a word or replacing it with a euphemism may only create an illusion and solve very little. My point of course is not to say that all religions are good, or that all persons whom are religious are good. My point is that it makes little sense to categorically deny religion because at root it is a system of beliefs.  That would be to act in haste.

One other aspect to consider is this: in Christian circles, being religious has become synonymous to something like, being legalistic. But these are not two ways of saying the same thing. Legalism is to do things out of duty without understanding the meaning/significance of it. You can do anything, habitually, and devoid of significance. That is to say, you can do anything like robot. Many have responded by denying religiosity. But again this is to make a similar mistake as the aforementioned. You are mistaking a system of beliefs with doing things like an android.

I say be religious, have a system of beliefs (everyone already does anyway). Just be intent about examining them and critical about how you live and judge each system of beliefs by its constituent beliefs and their relations. Hating on Religion itself, is essentially hating on any body of interrelated beliefs and that is unclear thinking.

The Creator and the created.

It is a beautiful Sunday afternoon. We got home from service, had some lunch and now I am sitting on the patio trying to take a moment to sit quietly, think, and perhaps speak 'a few reasonable words' (to borrow from Goethe). We are still learning (and very slowly) what it means to make the most of such a day. At church we often discuss the purpose of observing the sabbath and I am glad for it. The last thing I want it to become is another set of rules to follow for the sake of following them. I have a tendency to lose the meaning of things quickly and to settle into perfunctory motions. Mostly though I find myself still far from keeping the day holy probably because I am not fully convinced of its importance quite yet...

Today, I feel the tiredness of another week having passed. My statement is at once quite natural and odd. Natural because we often speak of time as something passing. As if it were a speeding train or river hurrying by. Of course, if it is a moving body of water, it is most certainly carrying us along for the ride. Despite the ease with which we talk about time, and the extent to which our lives are governed by it, I don't think many people think much about the nature of time. And this is why I have said my statement of the 'week passing' is odd. Consider for a moment this question: 'what is time?' Obviously it isn't the sort of thing you can bump into, taste, touch, or smell. On the other hand it doesn't seem quite like it is nothing either. I mean what can you say about nothing? Certainly not that it flows, or that it passes.

On one view, time is a relationship between events; this is what Aristotle believed. It is not that time is a thing or substance out there in the world (loosely the Newtonian picture), but rather a measure of change. On such a view, at least something must move, grow, speed up, slow down, be born, die, bounce, or roll in a word, something must change for there to be such a thing as time. In other words, without change it would be senseless to talk about time as a real. Imagine for a moment if everything in the universe were to suddenly freeze. There would be no new events (i.e., until everything were again unfrozen). There are other views regarding time's nature, but at least most agree that there is this intimate relationship between change and time.

It is interesting that according to Christian Theism, God is eternal, and unchanging. Provided we accept the relational view, we can conceive of time beginning to exist only with the first appearance of an event. This would mean that God would not be ignorant of time, but that he is also not constrained by it. Of course this is not true of us or anything in the material world. Everything is changing... and so we are confronted with the fundamental distinction between creation and the Creator.

The Christian Delusion

This post finds me at my local corporate bookstore. I happened across a book titled, The Christian Delusion edited by John Loftus (author of Why I Became An Atheist). The book is a compilation of essays by various scholars (of various fields) about the implausibility of Christian belief. I have worked through the introduction and the first two essays in a semi-comfy green striped chair. I will have to return to my studies shortly, but the book has provided a good intermission. I also thought I might post a short blog about the book. What caught my attention about this work is that the so many of its contributors would consider themselves to have been at one time "believers."

The first essay was by an anthropologist and the second by a psychologist. To be honest, the former didn't peak much interest in me. The author essentially argued that some religions become cultures in that doctrines infiltrate every part of a persons life. This in turn is thought to make it more difficult for adherents of such coteries to obtain any amount of objectivity when assessing their beliefs. Instead of viewing religion as a crutch, the writer argued that religion is the very lens through which people interact with reality. I honestly can't understand how this was much of a contribution to academia. Ok, so people tend to be biased. No kidding... Perhaps I was hoping for too much from this guy...

The second essay on the other hand was a bit more intriguing. Its author considers a psychological explanation to the phenomena of "religious experiences" and "born again encounters." To be fair, he doesn't provide much scientific data, but rather recounts anecdotal evidence.

But before he gets into the gist of his argument some time is spent talking about just how irrational people tend to be according to the field of psychology. Again this is merely anecdotal, but it isn't very difficult for me to believe him. More specifically he points out that people will tend to accept beliefs based on feelings or sentiments rather than for good reasons (and often despite). In other words, people tend to express an irrational epistemology. Of course, this is a general statement that applies to all. Further it isn't a claim of necessity (that is people aren't necessarily always going to be irrational).

The next point was more interesting and had to do with "religious experiences." When believers are pressed for justification for their belief in an invisible God they often report having some personal, supernatural encounter. These experiences are phenomenal in that they are "felt" and such subjectivity is thought to be proof enough. The psychologist offers an interesting argument to repudiate such a view which is that these phenomenal experiences can be explained another way. What is more, he argues that a simpler psychological explanation can suffice to account for such experiences. In the philosophical and scientific communities there is such a thing called the principle of Parsimony. It is often overstated and presumptive but the general idea isn't super controversial. In essence, parsimony requires that when provided with two proposed explanations for a phenomena all things considered (that is, provided that the two proposals account for the phenomena equally well) then we ought to go with the simpler of the two. This often means that we shouldn't multiply entities beyond necessity. I have my qualms about parsimony but I think when applied well it is useful. Maybe an illustration of its application may help.

Suppose I hear a knocking sound on my front door which is not possible to see through. Not being able to see the cause of the sound I can hypothesize that a person is on the other side of the door causing the noise or I can posit that a mystical creature like an elf from some clandestine land is the cause. The latter requires me to make a further ontological commitment namely, the existence of some mystical being while the former does not (presumably people do exist). Both could equally explain the noise on my door of course, but one is simpler than the other. It is by this principle that the author of the essay in question concludes that "religious experiences" should not be accepted as proof in the existence of God. I think this is a strong argument against anyone who argues from religious experience alone to the existence of God. Such an argument would go something like this (and should make you cringe):

1) I had a esoteric, out of this world experience of God's presence.
2) Therefore, God must exist.

It is by all accounts a pretty terrible argument but I am sorry to say I hear it a lot among believers.

Dwelling in Darkness

I should be asleep, but I am restless for some reason. I stayed up all evening into the early morning working on a paper for my History of Modern Philosophy class and thus I am going on very few hours of sleep. I suppose the writing of this blog, the subtle hum of the hard drive mixed with the sound of the tiny clicks that result from my key strokes and the silence of another day turning over will soon make heavy my eyelids...

I went outside to write on the patio because I thought it would be perfect on a night like this. But that lasted about 2 minutes. It was too cold outside. The idea of it was better than the actuality and I suppose that much of our lives are this way. We romanticize things, pursue them with all our might only to find that we are met with disappointment. Perhaps it is for this reason that some have resorted to enjoying the anticipation of an event more than the actual event; like the preparation of a trip over the trip itself.

This evening ended with a conversation that I had with my friend Chad. We talked a bit about how it is that we as humans tend to imprison ourselves. He likened it to a prisoner that find himself in Alcatraz today; despite the open cells and the constant visiting of tourists, such a person is deluded into thinking that he cannot leave. I thought that was an interesting metaphor; a true one. I have been thinking a great deal about the reason why such phenomenon occur, that is, why do we continue to keep ourselves shackled to our old, desparate ways of life? Or why are we so slow to change for the good?

At church our pastor often teaches about the reality of self deception and self justification in our lives. Scripture is saturated with examples. That is to say:

"The heart above all things is deceitful and desperately wicked." - Jeremiah 17:9

In our conversation we talked about how we hate the light just like it says in the prologue to John's gospel. Katie and I had a discussion about this the other day also. The gospel writer says that the word became flesh and dwelt among us, and that it was the light of nature. Further, those in darkness hated this light because of what it exposed. I have this picture in my mind of cave dwellers who know of nothing better than their dark, dingy, holes of earth. Then as light is shined upon them, it exposes just what a hole it is that they are living in. But instead of heading toward the truth (the light), it is as if the inhabitants simply shut their eyes, turn around and move only further into the depths of their depravity... but it just doesn't make sense why we respond in this manner. It is after all, a cave. It might be a different matter if we were flourishing; but we aren't.

It is incredible that I continue to hate the light and that I run from it. To add insult to injury, what I run to is worthless. This is our nature the depravity of sin in our lives. We are disgusted by what is beautiful and enticed by what is foul. Who can save us from this body of death?

Details

It is Good Friday. It is the day that we believers commemorate the trial and death of our Lord. I woke up this morning as if it were any other Friday barely getting myself out of bed. I went about my routine and attended class and nothing was too far out of the ordinary. I returned home this afternoon and fell asleep for a time as a result of the lack of sleep I have experienced for much of this week. As I woke, I realized that it was in fact a special day and found myself upset that I had so easily forgotten.

I brewed some coffee and went for a short drive only to get out of the apartment for a while and upon my return began reading Matthew’s gospel beginning in Christ’s last teachings before he is brought before the Sanhedrian. Here is the picture: Jesus has just shared a number of parables with his followers, all of which seem to be centered on being watchful and prepared for things to come. Then they proceed to Simon's house just before the last supper when an unidentified woman (John records her as Mary) anoints Christ with costly perfume. The disciples grumble that she has wasted money, which is something that I could easily imagine myself saying in their place. John records that it was Judas in fact that led this charge interestingly enough. The Lord’s response is instructive as usual; he challenges the disciple’s narrow pragmatism; they are missing something of vital importance.

Christ's explanation cut me like a knife. Matthew recounts the savior's words as thus: “When she poured this perfume on my body, she did it to prepare me for burial…” It seems then that she knows and believes what is to come, something even the disciples will struggle to understand. Christ must be crucified to fulfill the prophecies, to save the world; she fully anticipates it. John provides us the further detail that she washed his feet with her hair and I think this is a beautiful picture of her adoration for Jesus. She knows that he must die at the hands of men, that he must leave her and I don't imagine this was easy for her but perhaps she has the will of God in mind something that Peter will soon wrestle with. Again it appears that Mary has paid close attention to the details putting the disciples to shame. If you will recall this is the same Mary that sat at foot of Christ in a previous episode, listening intently to his words while her sister Martha was busy with preparations. Mary is said to have chosen the more valuable...

I missed the bulk of Good Friday because I was busy with business as usual. I am most interested in what this might reveal about my divided heart these days. Am I seeking to know God above all else? Is He my portion? No, I continue to wrestle with God. I continue to get entangled in the vain things of this world. I am more like the disciples at the garden of Gethsamane who in light of the fact that their Lord is in deep distress, and in light of all that is to come, with heavy eyelids keep falling asleep...

"Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak." - Matthew 26:41

24

“Twenty -four failures, twenty-four tries…” -Switchfoot

The last year and a half have been a time of some significant changes. I have gotten engaged, left music for academia, and as I have previously mentioned Katie and I have started attending a new church. These are the apparent changes, but more remain under the surface and these I believe to be far more substantial. For one, I have been on a spiritual journey having left what was for so many years comfortable for me in exchange for the unknown. In some minor way I am reminded of the scriptures: Abraham was called by God to leave his home and travel to Ur, Moses from Egypt to the promised land and the apostles from Jerusalem to the Gentile nations.

I suppose we may all be called at some time to abandon that which is most familiar to us in order to sojourn to the beyond. Unfortunately, though we may leave our past surroundings toward the call it is often not without baggage. The manner in which we have previously grown creates for us certain paradigms, ways of thinking and acting, sometimes perfunctory patterns and as we venture out we find a collision of spheres: New wine and old wine skins. Thus, the journey is long and arduous with great obstacles. We encounter a battle within ourselves and all of our:

“twenty-four parts…”

According to biblical tradition, the Israelites essentially walked around in a circle for 40 years because their hearts required immense change; they had to be broken of their former ways of existence and it wasn’t pretty and I guess I feel as though I have been and continue on a similar path.

I have been a child in the spiritual sense for years. I have survived off of only milk.. I have had zeal without knowledge and have thought like a child. But I am trying to move ahead toward the Zion; to put off childish ways and to reason like a man only I continue to crawl on the floor dribbling at the chin.

“There’s twenty-four reasons to admit that I’m wrong, with all my excuses still twenty-four strong…"

In Deuteronomy 2, it is written that God had to humble the hearts of his people during the exhausting exodus to the land of the promise. Through their complaining and nostalgia for Egypt they had to press on, but they had to be transformed in the process and this could be done no other way than through constant failures, which I suppose could bring one to their knees.

I was thinking about all of this when I turned to the book of Hebrews a moment ago. Here is sort of the outline of the epistle: Paul exhorts believers not to neglect the word of God (Ch 2); warns the church about regressing in learning and instead exhorts us to progress from immaturity to solid food (Ch 5 and 6); commands us to abstain from willful sinning which he equates to “trampling on the Son of God”, regarding “profane the blood of Christ”, and “insulting the Spirit of Grace” all of which are to bring judgment (Ch 10:26-31). Furthermore, the apostle calls us to endure (Ch 12) in light of the groundwork that has been laid by our parents in the faith (mentioned in Ch 11). This is then followed by a section on God’s discipline of those he calls children. Struggling against sin and enduring in the faith (against the odds) appear to be the context of the "fatherly discipline."

Tonight I was also thinking about some of my recent conversations with others of the faith. There remains great division within the church and substantive discussions too often confront us with this fact. Thus, as I venture out beyond- as I journey away from what has been comfortable and familiar, I encounter disparities with previous mentors and friends and this is not without some degree of pain. How interesting though that I am also struggling with the disparities within my self and I’d imagine that I am not alone in this. In fact, St. Augustine spends much of his Confession on this very issue. The apostle Paul in similar spirit wrote: “The good I want to do I don’t do and that which I don’t want to do I end up doing.” As I look at my journey I continue to discover my failings, inadequacies, depravity, and in short, the lack of unity within myself. I am a house divided against itself and at times I get pretty weary of encountering this reality. How many crappy things do I have to learn about myself each day and why do I keep failing?

"But I want to be one today, centered in truth…”

I'm glad I kept reading as I found these words towards the end of the letter to the Hebrews:

“No discipline seems enjoyable at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it yields the fruit of peace and righteousness to those who have been trained by it. Therefore strengthen your tired hands and weakened knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be dislocated, but healed instead.” Hebrews 12:11-12

One day "the lion will lay with the lamb" (Isaiah 11:6) and the church will be united as the bride of Christ (Rev 19:7) and along the way I suppose I will by his grace, pull my twenty-four pieces together.

Advent of Sabbath

As December winds down and as Christmas draws near I can't believe that 2010 is just around the corner. I don't recall a year that has been this eager to end. This morning I attended church and since that time I went home, made a little lunch and have been doing a little reading in the Westminster Confession of Faith as well as, looking through some of the Psalms. All this in an effort to keep the sabbath. Unfortunately, this is a rather foreign concept for me even though I have been a believer for sometime now. I think that somehow the sabbath though a significant part of the history of Christianity has been jettisoned along with a number of other significant traditions in the process of modernization or perhaps more specifically Americanization. For the most part I like millions of other self professing believers around the country dedicated a couple of hours at a church service and then rushed to a Rubios or IHOP to eat. This was followed by 12 or so hours of watching movies, hanging out, or otherwise carrying on with work. In other words, sabbath was just another day excepting the fact that I spent a couple hours at church singing songs and hearing a message. Recently, Katie and I have been attempting to learn about the sabbath, what it is scripturally and how it is that we can honor the Lord on this day. Luckily we have had a few friends who have been on a similar journey that have been pointing us in the right direction. The Westminster Confession states:

This Sabbath is to be kept holy unto the Lord when men, after a due preparing of their hearts, and ordering of their common affairs beforehand, do not only observe an holy rest all the day from their own works, words, and thoughts about their wordly employments and recreations, but also are taken up the whole time in the public and private exercises of His worship, and in the duties of necessity and mercy.

A few of the corresponding scriptures are Exodus 20:8, Exodus 16:23-30, Exodus 31:15-17, and Isaiah 58:13 for those who might be inquiring. Anyway, as I have already mentioned it hasn't been easy to follow, that is, keeping the worship of God in the forefront of my mind, in my thoughts, in my words and my actions has proven to be quite difficult even for one day a week and I guess it reveals something about my life overall. If I am struggling to do this one day a week what might this reveal about the rest of my days?

Nevertheless, I think we are slowly learning. At first it felt a bit encumbering like rules tend to feel at initial glance. I was reading The History of Western Philosophy by Bertrand Russell last night and the first chapter was on Ancient Greece. Russell traces how Greek thought was an admixture of primitive science and religion. Moreover, he notes that as empiricism and rationality began to advance in that part of the world, it was met by an opposition of radical superstition as if the people were reverting (rather than progressing) as a result of the shift towards civility. In fact, some of the religious practices that were re-emerging were rather barbaric paralleling those of centuries before. Anyway, I've said all that to say that maybe it's pretty natural for people to revert in the face of challenges. More importantly though, I found that it was very easy to slip into the wrong mentality about the whole thing. For example, as I describe the sabbath day to others I find that they naturally tend towards asking about the things i can and cannot do. I did the same thing when I first started to hear about it, but that is to fall into a sort of legalism and to forget the heart of it all. The true question should be: "what can I do today to honor God?" as opposed to "what is it that I can get away with doing today?" Thus, I find as I have grown up for the most part without any concept of sabbath that I have a great deal to unlearn and learn.

I shared all this because as I spent today thinking about the sabbath (though quite against my natural inclination) I began to think also about Advent and the relationship between the two. It has become rather cliched now for Christians to shout that Christmas has been secularized. I have heard enough sermons about how it's better to say "Merry Christmas" than "Happy Holidays" to make me quite queasy. Yes, Christmas is not about shopping, santa, gift giving, egg nog, or mistletoe and I agree with all of this, but it seems strange that believers by in large don't seem very concerned over the sabbath. Strangely enough, although there is no command about celebrating Christmas, there are explicit and implicit directions regarding the sabbath. It seems that the sabbath has also been secularized only nobody seems to care much about it. It seems for the most part that Sunday has become a mere day off, opportunity for overtime, golf day, movie day, or IHOP day. In fact, the movies and restaurants are filled with happy church goers, in other words, we encourage that others work on the Lord's day. What is more, we spend it as a leisure day rather than a day of worship; we make it about us instead of Him and I guess as I look at everything Christmas has become, all the shiny lights, decorations, and all of the excess and as I think about how Christians have been fighting to "win back Christmas" I can't help but think that perhaps we are missing something here. Perhaps the secularization of Easter, Christmas, and the sabbath has as much to do with what we as believers have made of our lives as it does about non believers influencing culture. Perhaps that our society has lost the meaning of our precious occasions is only symptomatic of something more fundamental, namely the state of our hearts as the church. If we cannot maintain a day each week to focus on worship then how should we expect to maintain the proper attitude towards occasions like Advent. Further, if we as the church have lost the meaning of advent then what can we expect from secular culture?