Envying Ezra

Spoiler alert: this blog reveals plot details from "The Fault In Our Stars" and also includes frequent use of a vulgar term.

"These books are not condoning or encouraging sex and vulgarity -- they are providing a voice and context for a particular experience of the characters."

That is the reply that almost haunts me most. (More on that shortly.)

These words came in response to a blog which I posted to a local "Patch" community website. (We used to gather at the soda bar, I suppose, or the post office. Now you post a blog to Patch.)

Heaven knows the link will go stale eventually. In anticipation of that day, I'll note here that in the blog I lamented the fact that an extremely popular book among middle-school children these days is available in our local public middle-school library.

I allowed this book to enter my house and even began to read it aloud to my daughter — but abandoned the project after I realized that there was no good ending to this book. We plowed a furrow through a lot of profanity and dubious material before I realized that things were getting worse, not better. This book was not taking me or my daughter anywhere I wanted either of us to go.

That's not to say I avoid all of life's ugliness. No, what I'm saying is that I need to know it's worth the effort. I don't engage with dark themes for kicks. I do so for the sake of the good. Where is God in this story? What's the redemptive thread in this?

Speaking of that word, a favorite line of mine from the memorable movie The Shawshank Redemption is that the main character "crawled through a river of shit and came out clean on the other side."

This book and that movie have shit in common. The movie portrays a redemption of sorts, however. The book just portrays young teens behaving badly.

Notably, in this book young teens...
• have sex,
• engage in lewd, profane and bawdy conversation,
• engage in a celebrated act of revenge vandalism, and
• joke about exchanging porn without parents noticing.

That's rough stuff any day of the week, but I might (maybe) put up with it if we came out clean on the other end.

But we don't. We just come out smelling like the shit we just read. Strong words, but have a look...

Is this appropriate for a sixth-grader?

Or how about this eulogy given in a church sanctuary:

The fact that the church was empty except for the three kids doesn't change the stunning lack of respect for holy space.

Good stuff for a sixth grader?

There are no adverse consequences to any of these deplorable scenes: they are just part of the story. Never lamented. Sometimes celebrated. The characters just keep plowing, behaving badly right up through the end of the book. Nobody grows. No epiphany moments. Perhaps the fact that they have cancer is supposed to somehow make me overlook their lamentable antics, but if that was the plan, it didn't work for me.

The book has nothing - I repeat, nothing - redemptive about it.... Unless dying of cancer is redemptive all by itself. (But it isn't.) Unless romance in and of itself is redemptive in every flavor under the sun. (Including the variety where two young teens have sex together within two months of their first meeting.)

So I blogged about how this stuff is totally inappropriate reading for eleven year old kids and subjected myself to a community response that, in terms of comments, came down on the side of condemnation. Condemnation of me, that is.

The reply at the top of this reflection captured the sentiment.

Fans of the book's presence in a children's library would have us believe that it does not actually encourage bad behaviors. It's just an opportunity to experience life from a different set of eyes.

My short response is to say: Our children? Through these eyes?

My longer response is to say that the American public (large swathes of it self-proclaimed church-attending Christians) can be aptly compared to a smoothly functioning toilet. It has been discovered that our wide American mouths swallow a lot of shit. So people with shit to sell keep dropping by to put more in.

And we defend the fact that we eat the shit we're sold, protesting that it doesn't always taste good. "We don't celebrate the taste," the line goes. "We experience it."

I prefere St. Paul's approach to the matter:

Ephesians 5:3-12 (excerpted)
But among you there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality, or of any kind of impurity, or of greed, because these are improper for God’s holy people. Nor should there be obscenity, foolish talk or coarse joking, which are out of place, but rather thanksgiving....
For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light...
Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. It is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret.

(There's admittedly a bit of irony here. I am freely using the word shit here and describing what disobedient kids are doing in secret. Hmmm. but Paul did say we should expose them, and he did use the Greek equivalent of shit once in holy scriptures. A strong word at the right moment can be usefully employed to wake up dozing readers.)

The most haunting part of this experience for me, however, was not the response from my community, which was predictable, if tragic.

No, what haunts me most is the feedback from church acquaintances:
• The college kid who told my daughter that she really liked the book
• The woman who told my wife she very much enjoyed the book
• Others who disparage the book privately, but say nothing publicly

The blog did get forwarded on Facebook quite a bit (more than 50 times) but that takes only a second, and only your friends see it.

Replying to the blog publicly takes time and involves public exposure. It was largely only my detractors who had time for that kind of effort.

I've been reading my way through the Old Testament slowly over the past few years, and I happen (if anything in life is a coincidence) to be reading through Ezra and Nehemiah right now. Thus the blog title.

I envy Ezra. And Nehemiah. They saw that the Israelites were assimilating with local pagan culture, called attention to the situation, and the Israelites responded. Quickly. Repentance and change.

Such has not been my experience.

I live in an area some refer to as "the Christian Mecca". On this topic, at least, I believe more could be expected from a city on a hill.

Jesus asked at one point what happens when salt loses its flavoring.

We're finding out.

Finding out right now.

We Don't Know What We Owe

"Very well," the court clerk replied, "would you like to pay in denarii, knuts, sickles or galleons?"

I was at the local courthouse, and things weren't going smoothly.

The problem wasn't with the speeding ticket, which I did not contest. The problem was with the fine: 300 talents.

I told the clerk I didn't know what a talent is and certainly didn't have any. Her reply only made things worse. Four more currencies I didn't recognize.

It began to dawn upon me that I had no idea what I owed.

Yes, this scenario is fabricated, however all five currencies have meaning. Three are from Harry Potter. The average kid can line them up in order of value pretty easily.

Students of the Bible will recognize the other two and likewise be able to line them up in order of value.

But if you're a student of neither Harry Potter nor the Bible, all five currencies sound like something from Dr. Seuss.

So where am I going with this?

In church as we entered the season of Lent, the following parable was read aloud twice.

Luke 7:36-50
When one of the Pharisees invited Jesus to have dinner with him, he went to the Pharisee’s house and reclined at the table. A woman in that town who lived a sinful life learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, so she came there with an alabaster jar of perfume. As she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them.
When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner.”
Jesus answered him, “Simon, I have something to tell you.”
“Tell me, teacher,” he said.
“Two people owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?”
Simon replied, “I suppose the one who had the bigger debt forgiven.”
“You have judged correctly,” Jesus said.
Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.” Then Jesus said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.”
The other guests began to say among themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?”
Jesus said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

It was on the second hearing that I began to listen.

(Sometimes repetition is not boring. Sometimes it wakes you up.)

I put myself into the story and tried to empathize with each player. What Jesus said was obviously true. The one forgiven much will love much.

All well and good, but my mind began to move once I admitted to myself that the one who "loves little" in this parable does so with good cause.

I still remember where I was standing fifteen years ago when a woman's voice over the phone forgave with one stroke a massive amount of school debt that I legally owed a former employer.

But I cannot say how often a store clerk has forgiven me a penny or two on some purchase. Nobody cares about pennies. I've forgotten before I get home.

It's hardly a crime that the one forgiven little "loves little."

So, Jesus, what do we do with this?

My mind wandered to St. Paul, a man responsible for the murder of innocent Christians. Forgiven much.

What about me? My thoughts drifted to The Parable of the Prodigal.

Luke 15:11-32
Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them.
“Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.
“When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ So he got up and went to his father.
“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.
“The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’
“But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.
“Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’
“The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’
“‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’”

Jesus ends the parable with an unspoken question hanging in the air.

"And you?"

Jesus told the parable to "righteous" Pharisees. Men who, like their fellow Pharisee Simon, felt that it was beneath their dignity to hang out with "Sinners" (with a capital S).

In the Parable of the Prodigal, the younger brother is obviously not too wise, but he's been forgiven much. He may well love much. We don't know.

But Jesus ends the parable with the spotlight on the elder brother, so that's where our focus should be too. He's in a dangerous spot. Why?

He, like the Pharisees, has been comparing himself to his brother. As a result he thinks he's been well-nigh perfect. He's mistaken.

If I owe 50 dollars, I know what I owe. And it's a lot less than 500 dollars.

If I owe 50 talents, I'm not sure what I owe, but it's a lot less than 500 talents.

But if I owe [???] units of [???], how great is my debt?

Now I'm lost.

But that, my friends, is where we stand. We, along with the Pharisees and the elder brother, do not know what we owe.

God has not shown us the exact pricing for our various sins, many of which we fail to notice or remember. (Notice that the older brother claims to have never disobeyed his father. Really?)

And as for the currency, sin debts are paid by means of innocent blood. I don't have any of that. Do you?

So we face an unquantified debt denominated in a currency we don't possess. Friends, our position is tenuous. What shall we do?

Here's a bad idea. Do what the Pharisees did. Estimate by means of comparison! "Well, I haven't murdered. I haven't committed any felony offences like that fellow there... I guess I'm close to square?"

No. It's the other way around. When we compare ourselves to others, we only add to our sins.

Oops. So those who think themselves safest are perhaps in the greatest peril?

Perhaps? Perhaps?? Jesus repeatedly takes pains to state that this is in fact the case. The surcharge for smug self-righteousness is high. We don't know what we owe, but because of our judgmental attitude it's a lot more than we think.

Are we listening to Jesus? If we are, we will respond by loving much.

A great debt we cannot even measure nor rank has been paid on our behalf by the blood of an innocent man who owed us nothing — a man who, oh-by-the-way, hates ingratitude.

If we are not listening, what Jesus said to the Pharisees applies to us.

Matthew 21:31b
Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you.

I almost ended the blog with that verse, but we've seen it before. Repetition can lull. So let's restate it twice.

"It's better to know you owe a lot and be sorry than to think you owe very little and be smug."

"It's better to accept forgiveness for 500 terrible sins than to haughtily downplay 50 subtle sins. The surcharge for a haughty attitude in the courts of heaven is death."

[Reality check: My wife works as an interpreter in court. She occasionally comes home with a story about how a minor traffic violation turned into a trip to the clinker when the arrogant defendant hacked off the judge.]

Why is it we simply won't listen? We hear it, but we don't internalize it.

We are Pharisees.

Jesus keeps throwing it in our face, but we won't listen.

So Jesus repeats himself.

Over. And. Over. Again.

Luke 18:9-14
To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’
“But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’
“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

This is the most repetitive blog I've ever written.

And that's saying something.

It's intentional.

I did a word count. Half of this blog is Jesus talking.

Anything Jesus feels it necessary to say many times?

Is something we need to hear many times.

The hope is that we start to listen.

Jesus Interrogates Pilate and Accuses His Accusors

The Book of Common Prayer reading for today seems a bit odd, seeing as Lent has not begun yet. We seem a few steps ahead of the process. Having said that, perhaps this is appropriate, because in this passage Jesus seems in a sense to be a few steps ahead, too.

Here's the passage:

John 18:28-38
Then the Jewish leaders took Jesus from Caiaphas to the palace of the Roman governor. By now it was early morning, and to avoid ceremonial uncleanness they did not enter the palace, because they wanted to be able to eat the Passover. So Pilate came out to them and asked, “What charges are you bringing against this man?”
“If he were not a criminal,” they replied, “we would not have handed him over to you.”
Pilate said, “Take him yourselves and judge him by your own law.”
But we have no right to execute anyone,” they objected. This took place to fulfill what Jesus had said about the kind of death he was going to die.
Pilate then went back inside the palace, summoned Jesus and asked him, “Are you the king of the Jews?”
“Is that your own idea,” Jesus asked, “or did others talk to you about me?”
“Am I a Jew?” Pilate replied. “Your own people and chief priests handed you over to me. What is it you have done?”
Jesus said, “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jewish leaders. But now my kingdom is from another place.”
“You are a king, then!” said Pilate.
Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. In fact, the reason I was born and came into the world is to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.”
“What is truth?” retorted Pilate. With this he went out again to the Jews gathered there and said, “I find no basis for a charge against him."

The thing that first struck me this morning as I read this passage was that Jesus ignores Pilate's first question.

"Are you the king of the Jews?"

That's not a toughie, as they say. But Jesus responds to Pilate with a question of his own. The interrogated becomes the interrogator.

So that was odd, and I wondered if Jesus leaves Pilate's question unanswered.

Oddly enough, he does not.

Jesus answers Pilate's first question, but only after he has set the terms and tenor of the conversation to his own liking.

The question Jesus returns to Pilate is also a simple question.

"Is that your own idea, or did others talk to you about me?"

A simple question, but a profound one. Said another way, Jesus is asking Pilate who he has been listening to. Hold that thought!

Pilate picks up pretty quickly on the fact that Jesus has turned the tables on him, so he gives a retort and tries to get the interrogation pointed in the right direction again.

"What is it you have done?"

Another simple question! But once again Jesus doesn't answer it. Not yet, at any rate. Instead, he answers Pilate's first question! "Yes," Jesus assures Pilate in so many words, "I am a King."

Give Pilate credit, because he's tracking with Jesus quite well. He recognizes this as the answer to his first question.

"You are a king, then!"

But Pilate's elation (perhaps feeling briefly that he had regained control of the interview?) is short-lived. Jesus continues to guide the interrogation effortlessly.

And here is where a pattern began to take shape for me. Jesus answers Pilate's first question, but not immediately. So also with the second.

"What is it you has done?" Pilate had asked. Now Jesus, according to his own timing, returns to answer this question, and does so emphatically.

"...the reason I was born and came into the world is to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me."

But here's where the interrogation is revealed to be what it really is.

Pilate is not interrogating Jesus. He's not in control. Pilate is just along for the ride.

The action is with Jesus, who is doing three things.
1) Testifying to the truth.
2) Accusing his accusers.
3) Interrogating his interrogator.

That's what it all comes down to, when you boil it down.

Jesus does with Pilate what he's been doing with everyone else. Pointing to himself. Claiming his rightful place. Testifying to the truth. Everything else is just off-flow from that.
1) I'm the truth.
2) The people outside opposing me are opposed to the truth.
3) And you, Pilate? Are you for the truth?

The part that, for me, makes it clear that Jesus has done this all quite intentionally is this: Jesus asked the key question at the start of the conversation, and then made sure that the conversation ended with his explanation of why that first question was so important.

Opening question? "Who have you been listening to?"

Closing assertion? "Everyone on the side of the truth listens to me."

At this point, Pilate throws in the towel. "What is truth?" he retorts. (In other words, "I don't want to be interrogated anymore.")

The interrogation is finished. Pilate leaves.

But Jesus the interrogator remains, and as was the case with several parables Jesus told, a question lingers in the air long after the dust has settled.

A question that reaches out from the text 2,000 years later.

A question each reader must answer.

A question I must answer.

Who am I listening to?

Baal Worship and Ball Worship

I'm reading through the Bible at a blistering pace. In a mere year (or was it two?) I've made my way from Genesis 1 to the end of 2nd Chronicles.

Today I ran into that odd verse, 2 Chronicles 23:17, which refers to the destruction of the temple of Baal in Jerusalem under the leadership of Jehoiada. Excepting the parallel passage in 2nd Kings, there is no other reference in the Old Testament to an actual temple of Baal in the city of Jerusalem.

And yet it was there.

One of the depressing things I take away from my Old Testament readings is the pervasive reality that people pick up spare idols rather easily. A page or two later we read of Amaziah, who is given a great victory over Edom only to... wait for it... take the Edomite idols home with him to Jerusalem.

At this point I set aside my reading to go upstairs and kiss a few children off to their respective schools. As I passed by our family idol I noticed it was glowing and paused to gain wisdom from it because the man on the screen was a priest wearing albs and a cross over his chest.

The video clip was on the news because the pastor had given a very hurried 1-minute sermon so as to get home to watch his beloved San Francisco 49ers in the NFL playoffs. As he left the podium the pastor spread apart his albs to reveal a red T-shirt underneath emblazoned with the 49ers team logo.

I proceeded upstairs to pray for the child heading off to school. Then I retreated to the basement, somewhat shaken by a disturbing juxtaposition. A temple of Baal tucked away in the City of Jerusalem... and a temple of Ball tucked away under this pastor's albs.

I decided to jot my thoughts down and turned on my PC (which happens to be another contender for my allegiance...). I was relieved to confirm on Google that the 1-minute sermon was a gag. The pastor did proceed to preside over a regular church service after the joke was over.

But my relief was not unmitigated, because a line had been crossed. Before the Lord's table there is little room for humor. Yet this pastor had quipped during his 1-minute sermon, "Would you all like to be forgiven for your sins? OK, that's great, you are. There's some bread and some wine up here on the table. You all feel free to help yourself if you'd like to."

A line had been crossed. And underneath his cross this man bore a shirt dedicated to the temple of Ball.

But as I reflected on the travesty I had witnessed, I realized that I too was guilty. There are many American Idols, and not all of them involve sports.

As it will be recalled, I had gone up to pray for a child or two as they headed off to school. After a brief (real) prayer over a particular child, I worded some final advice to the child (pertaining to an upcoming Math exam) in Eucharistic terms... as if the advice had come from the Lord. I closed with the words, "Thanks be to Dad." Even as I did it, I realized that a line had been crossed.

And I as sit here reflecting upon what I had done, I wonder if during my passage by the TV shine I had not perhaps picked up an extra Baal from that irreverent pastor.

Yes, inappropriate joking can desecrate a holy place no less effectively than a sports logo. I am guilty of the former, if not the later. Baal worship comes in many forms.

We like to think we have come a long way. We like to think we've left idol-worship in the rubble of ancient history.

But we haven't.

I pray for my fellow Americans that they will stop bringing sports idolatry or crass joking into the house of God.

For myself, I pray that this moment of clarity will not leave me. There is a place for silliness.

It does not belong in my prayers.

What Would He Say Today??

I'm reading a book by Richard J. Foster titled Freedom of Simplicity right now, and this morning I read the following things excerpted below:

We also need to have times when we fast from the media. It is amazing to me that many people are incapable of going through an entire day concentrating on one thing. Their train of thought is constantly broken by this demand or that interruption. The newspaper, the radio, the television, magazines — everything interrupts their concentration. Some people are so enslaved to television that if it were taken away they would go through withdrawal. Obviously, there is a time for the various media, but there is also time to be without them.

We can also learn to fast from the telephone. This instrument is a wonderful invention, but it controls many people . Some people will stop praying in order to answer the telephone. Can you imagine anything more absurd? I want to let you in on a secret: we don not need to answer that gadget every time it rings. We are not its slave, but its master.

The bolding above is mine, and it is there because it's no longer true. In our society we have long since reversed roles. The phone is the master, and we are the slaves. But the author can be forgiven for getting the wording wrong. When he wrote this book in 1981 the situation was a bit different.

1981???

1981???

Yes. The above social commentary is now more than thirty years old. I was eleven years old when this perceptive author saw where things were going. And he wasn't very happy about it. What a prophetic voice. As I read his words, I kept thinking to myself, "And what would he say today??"

What would he say today.

In a recent intimate gathering at our house a guest married Foster's two concerns into one. This person: a) left the conversation at hand,
b) got news via the cell phone in hand,
c) and then proceeded to inform the rest of us
d) who were sitting around the Christmas fire
e) of news we didn't need to know
f) which involved a fallen politician
g) (who is well remembered for being busted with a hooker)
h) who it turns out is going to divorce his wife.

This example is extreme (for someone coming from my perspective, if not for society in general today), but I am equally busted. The finger points back at me too. Picking up on the book where I left off, the next words are:

When people come to visit us, we should not insult them by interrupting our conversation to answer the telephone....

Uncomfortable. I'm feeling a bit uncomfortable.

Because I do that.

I answer my cell phone pretty much any time it rings.

I do it when with with a friend.

I have stopped praying in order to answer the cell phone too.

That's ok today, isn't it?

Or have I been lulled into a habit at the kind of pace that keeps the frog in the kettle even as the water begins to boil?

Perhaps this frog didn't notice the water temperature was changing.

Perhaps I've gain a few habits that would have been more widely lamented in 1981.

What would Richard Foster say today??

Indeed.

Evolution: Part III

[This blog post follows on the heels of Evolution: Part II]

A quick perusal of the first two postings in this blog show me (with greater or lesser persuasion) taking two parties to task.

In the first posting I took pure evolutionist to task — or, more to the point, anyone who fawningly hovers at the foot of that pedestal, thinking the theory of evolution (true or not) to be a principle to celebrated or given any honor to.

In the second posting I took conservative evangelical Christians to task — or, more to the point, anyone who fawningly and unquestioningly adheres to the (shall we say?) difficult position that Adam and Eve were the first two humans and sole ancestors of all who live today.

Having with two strokes alienated atheistic evolutionists and conservative Christians alike, it might be reasonably asked whom I have left to offend.

The answer is obvious.

Evolutionary Creationists.

Now it might have been assumed that I feel a great affinity for this group of souls. These are men and women who believe in God. Fellow Christians. Followers of Christ. And yet they are also scientists. People who appreciate scientific discoveries and accomplishments. These are people like Francis Collins, who (as the November 23rd Economist article "All about Adam" notes) is an "atheist-turned-Christian who directs the National Institutes of Health (NIH), the American government's biomedical research agency."

Surely these are the folk I agree with?

Well...

Not so fast.

Why the hesitancy? Well, let's read the words of that Economist editorial, describing an advocate of Evolutionary Creationism. "Mr Lamoureux is a prominent member of the 'evolutionary creation' movement, which credits God with creating Darwinian evolution and overseeing its workings (a view shared by, among others, the pope)."

So this is great. If I stand against this viewpoint, I'm aligned not merely in opposition to Francis Collins and Mr Lamoureux (whoever he is) but also the pope.

Well. There you have it.

But be that as it may, let's review what it is that they are supporting, and what I am in opposition to. What, exactly, is this Theory of Evolution?

Let's be real. I'm not a Ph.D in biology, so if I go beyond the briefest of details I will head into biological heresy no slower than a Sunday-School child would head into theological heresy when asked to define the Trinity.

So we'd better keep these words short!

But to the point. Evolution, as a theory and/or operating principle, holds to at least a minimum of the following notions, jumbled together: random mutation, survival of the fittest, and a competition to propagate.

Could there ever be an aggregation of principles more distinctly aligned against all that we have learned at the feet of Jesus?

Could there?

Random? REALLY? What exactly did God entrust to chance? Nothing on the grand scale, certainly, and some would argue nothing at all. Evolution purports to explain us. That's a rather important outcome. Did God leave that to chance too?

Survival of the fittest? REALLY? Is that what Jesus came to teach? Was he not the fittest of all? Did he not die sooner than many?

A competition to propagate? REALLY? Were we not taught by both Jesus and St. Paul that the greatest souls of all are those who die to self and live to serve others? Did either Jesus or Paul (with apologies to Dan Brown) leave any offspring?

I would love to know what exactly among the many driving assumptions of evolutionary biology are the ones that Christian advocates of Evolutionary Creationism think most closely describe the priorities and principles of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Which ones?

The editorial I keep quoting from the November 23rd edition of The Economist ends with a quotation from Paul Broun, a Georgia Republican who sits on the House science committee. Evolution, Mr Broun says, is a lie "straight from the pit of hell". As the Economist put it, "That's pandering. Not piety." And I agree.

But I would not disagree with anyone who said that using evolutionary theory to make personal moral decisions is a path leading (more than quickly) straight to hell. That I'd agree with. Emphatically.

Evolutionary theory supports the notion of cheating on your spouse. (If you can do so discretely.)

Evolutionary theory supports the notion of killing the children of neighborhood women. (If you can do so without getting caught. Then you can work on impregnating the women with children of your own. All on the sly, of course.)

Evolutionary theory supports the notion of [fill in the blank] provided it results in the propagation of your own genes.

Evolutionary theory is the veritable deification of self. Propagate yourself and let the rest of creation be damned. Hell on wheels. That, my friends, is the heart of the theory of evolution. And who, really, can argue that there is not a fair bit of that about. More than a bit.

Do my words sound extreme? Check the papers for the inner-city boyfriend who killed his girlfriend's toddler (a child sired by a prior boyfriend).

But is it what God Himself would have for us?

No. That's why the papers carry the story about the toddler's death. Evolutionary theory has something to say about why it happened. But our God-given consciences tell us why it should not have happened.

And that my friends is why I find myself (on this topic) at odds with atheists, conservative Christians and liberal Christians alike.

I will not stand as an Evolutionist and scorn Creationists.

I will not stand as a Creationist and scorn Evolutionists.

And finally, I will not stand as an Evolutionary Creationist either.

So those are three perspectives I do not hold. What, it may be asked, is the perspective I do hold?

I am a Creationist who sees Evolution at work in our world.

And it's been at work for a long time.

Evolutionary behavior is coincidentally enough, as old as the Fall.

Yes, I have come to believe that the Fall has a lot more to do with the first step taken in a "survival of the fittest" manner than with anything else.

I associate Evolution itself with the Fall. The deification of self is at the heart of both concepts.

I'm sure this perspective would prevent me from attending Wheaton College, let alone teaching there. This perspective also would prevent me from holding membership in most of the churches I might actually want to attend. (Ironically, the many churches that wouldn't mind this perspective a bit are the kind of churches I'd avoid like the plague.)

I do take comfort in the fact that Jesus himself never referred to Adam as a single soul, but that is small comfort. Can a man be more at risk than to seemingly be at odds with the words of St. Paul himself? By glossing the traditional view on Adam and Eve I seem to be in opposition to St. Paul's teachings as we interpret them today.

Perhaps I'm wildly mistaken. Deeply in error. Perhaps so.

Or perhaps five hundred years from now these words of mine will be as uncontroversial as the notion that planets circle the sun rather than it being the other way around.

We no longer feel we're opposing God's word when we acknowledge that the earth moves around the sun.

Perhaps one day this perspective on origins won't be widely viewed as opposition to God's word either.

In any case, when I am being honest, this is where I stand on the matter.

But let my final words on this topic cut to the core. The core is this: I trust that I serve a God who loves me and the historical Jesus who has saved me. God will forgive me, even if these views shared here reveal me to be misled and/or deceived. I need salvation more than I need a correct perspective on origins.

Evolution: Part II

[This blog post follows on the heels of Evolution: Part I]

In the first post of this series, I returned to some old articles from The Economist that got my mind racing a few years back.

One of the questions I found myself mulling over a great deal at the time is the question I posed at the end of that blog. "If Evolution were indeed a living and active being, should we call it a good one?" It's a question The Economist never really addresses directly, though I think it safe to say from the indirect evidence that writers over at The Economist are as troubled by the question as I am.

So you'd think from my opening words that I'm now going to tackle this question head on here in this posting. If so...

You'd be wrong!

This is a three-part series (I think?) and I believe that this key question is best left for last.

Here in Part II I hope instead to "get us up to speed" and cover the recent article from The Economist that got my mind racing on the same topic yet again.

Where to Begin?

A good one-page article can spark a number of conversations, and this one is a doozy. Titled "All about Adam" (November 23rd issue), this one touches on the sorts of topics that split churches and get professors at Christian colleges fired. As luck would have it, however, I'm neither a professor nor a pastor — so I have very little to lose by juggling hermeneutical hand grenades.

The article begins by noting a dramatic tension present in the contemporary Christian scene here in America. First, there is an affection for biblical inerrancy among huge swathes of the population... including many who don't darken the door of a church until a wedding or funeral forces their hand.

But that's among those who are middle-aged or older.

Among the youth of America affection for both the notion of inerrancy and, indeed, the church itself is rather more muted. As The Economist notes, fifty percent of the children from evangelical Christian homes abandon their faith after turning 18 years old.

[Don't read that sentence too quickly. Let it sink in.]

Why? Why are kids leaving church in droves after they grow up?

Well, probably not least because (as The Economist notes) a quarter of Christian youngsters view their church as an "anti-science" institution.

That would not be a problem, so to speak, if youngsters themselves did not trust science.

But they do. More than their pastors, at any rate.

And, quite frankly, I trust science too, though probably with a fair bit more reserve than the average 18-year-old. That's not to say that I think science is infallible! (Writers over at The Economist are no less naive. A recent article of theirs headlined just how fallible scientists can be!) No, I don't think science is infallible. Not at all. But I've been in churches long enough to know that pastors aren't either.

Well, a few hand-grenades have hit the floor already, but I'm only three paragraphs into the editorial! Where do we go from here?

Let's start with a few absolute truths all followers of Jesus should be able to agree upon:
1) Jesus is the head of his church, and
2) The Church of Christ will not fail.

I'd like to add one more item to that short list...

3) Historically speaking, there have been "hills we must die upon" that in hindsight proved to be quite the opposite.

Examples?

Oh, there are a few.

Looking into recent American history, we have the era preceding the Civil War, where Christians from the South (and North too) preached not only that slavery was acceptable, but that the mark placed upon Cain was that of a black skin.

What a wonderful way to justify the dehumanizing nature of the slave trade. What a salve this doctrine must have been for the consciences of those practicing Christians who perpetuated this horrific practice.

Need I say more?

But let's be clear about this.

This was not metaphorical hill. More than half a million "Christian" souls died in a very real way upon this very hill. A hill that few self-respecting (and no Christ-respecting) Christian would waste spit upon today.

Going back a bit further, there is the debacle involving Galileo. Learned leaders of the church set Galileo straight on the matter of which heavenly bodies were moving, and which were unmovingly firm.

What a relief to know we had good Christian leadership on that point.

Thank goodness the church stood firm on that doctrine.

(Or was it the people wearing infallible white collars who finally moved? Hmmmm.)

Is it not amazing how easily we move past the follies of the past ("Yeah, yeah, yeah... I get it. Right. Can we move on, now?") but by the same token cannot bear to scrutinize the follies of the present ("Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're wrong. And not a Christian. And a freaking moron to boot. Can we move on, now?").

Were a million evangelical Christians to view this blog today, at least half would be slightly (or more than slightly) irritated that I wasted their time reviewing this history that they already know about... history they do not dispute.

Not one thousand of them (if even that many) would want to reverse the results of the Civil War, and perhaps fewer still believe yet that the Earth is the center of the universe.

But how many will tolerate the thought of what I am about to say?

Few. Very few.

But I didn't come up with this stuff. I'm not the author of these claims. Scientists are. A flawed method? Yes. Of course! But in light of the church history we just reviewed, I would hope we were not looking for nor demanding greater perfection from science than we demanded from ourselves?

Ah well, I'm a fair ways into this reflection, and I've not yet touched upon the topic du jour... Prefatory words aside, it's time to hit the heart of this Economist editorial. It's time to cut to the chase.

Getting to the Point

The title of article ("All about Adam") does not mislead. The recent brouhaha is about Adam. Or lack of one, to state the case more accurately. As the article notes, genetic scientists insist that "modern humans, in their genetic diversity, cannot be descended from a single pair of individuals. Rather, there were at least several thousand 'first humans'."

Bombshell.

Bombshell?

Is it?

Can we be honest?

Without drawing swords?

Or must we re-enact the Civil War, defending the mark of Cain?

Come to think of it, the mark of Cain is a good starting point. Let's begin there.

And just to be sociable about it, let's assume that the creation narrative is, as they say, inerrantly true.

Yes. The doctrine that is causing such frustration amongst our (yes, our) children.

So... that mark. It's not that he's been made black. No. We're enlightened enough to know that being African is not a crime. Nor the mark of a former crime.

Why did God give him that mark? Because Cain is afraid. Afraid of what? Afraid that those who find him will kill him. What people might Cain be referring to? Well, if we're inerrantists, there is exactly one answer. His brothers and perhaps nephews. [Editorial note: the scriptures don't say that Cain is afraid of his siblings. We do.]

So what happens next? Cain gets married.

And has a son.

So.... Who did Cain marry?

Oh.... Yes.... There is an answer for that one, too.

(Does it echo the mark of Cain? A little too convenient?)

Yes, Cain married his sister. Apparently this would be a sister disinclined to kill him for murdering her brother Abel. Willing to marry Cain instead? Or was this an arranged marriage? Did Adam and Eve think it up? [Editorial note: the scriptures don't say that Cain married his sister. We do.]

And somehow... it was OK. Incest in this special case was just A-OK.

Incest with the brother who killed your brother.

Nice package.

Why?

Because conservative Christians of this century are committed to a doctrine which dictates that no other female humans existed on earth (Eve excluded) except Cain's sisters.

It's our version of the Civil War era mark of Cain. A convenient package. One that won't hold up for another hundred years.

Incest? With a brother who killed your brother? But we're Americans. So (as anyone who watches our entertainment will know) we're more concerned with sex than we are with violence.

[Truth be told, I do not recall in all my life a single soul ever questioning why Cain's sister would willingly marry the man who murdered her own peace-loving brother Abel. That's an interesting... and damning... thought, all by itself. We were curious about the sex, but we didn't think twice about the violence. Be that as it may....]

Moving on. Cain's wife. Conservative Christians do not like to speak of it as incest. Not incest proper, at any rate. A brief review on the internet confirms there is a clever "mark of Cain" story all ready to remedy this problem. It goes like this: the gene line was pure at that point, so sex with your sister won't produce kids with three legs.

Problem solved.

The breathtaking, breathtaking, breathtaking Christian hypocrisy.

One might as well argue that with the advent of condoms and birth control we should no longer be uptight about extra-marital affairs because there is no longer a real concern of adulterating gene lines. All we have to do is make sure no conception does not take place, right? After all, that's the main issue with adultery. That's where the word adultery got its name.

No church propagating this story about Cain and his sister would tolerate this line of reasoning where adultery is concerned. Why then is the incest situation between Cain and his sister suddenly "only about the genes?"

Isn't it remarkable how Christians sometimes become scientists... and bloody awful ones at that... the notion that Adam and Eve had "pure" genes is a schlopped together conspiratory-theory-worthy howler... but I digress. [Editorial note: the scriptures don't talk about genes. We do.]

Isn't it remarkable how Christians sometimes become "scientists" when they think it will serve their anti-science biblical agenda? Some paradoxes are beautiful. This one is ugly.

Yes, I scorn this incestuous theory. But I don't only scorn it. I grieve over it too. Men and women I love dearly believe this stuff. Their descendants will not. As surely as 150 years have cleared the church of a love for slavery, another century (should the Lord tarry that long) will cleanse Cain of the guilt of incest and restore him to his proper place as the world's first murderer, not the world's first sexual deviant.

But we're not done with Cain just yet. What did Cain do next, after marrying his sister and committing incest with her?

He built a city.

A city? Yes, a city.

For whom? Well, inerrancy requires that he built it for his siblings.

For siblings? The ones he was afraid would kill him?

For his descendants. His descendants??? So... He just started building a city.... for people who hadn't been born yet?

Hmmmmm. [Editorial note: the scriptures don't say Cain built a city for his siblings, children and/or shirt-tail relatives. We do.]

Question.

At what point do we acknowledge that the "Adam and Eve only" narrative doesn't work so hot? Not just for science. It doesn't even work very well with Genesis itself. The Genesis account is fine. It's God's word for us, and all we need to know (from a biblical perspective) about origins is in it. But how we've chosen to read it is not holding up so well.

When will we as Christians be free to say that?

100 years from now?

At what point do we acknowledge that just maybe we have to bend not only God's own laws (about incest, for starters) but also all boundaries of reason in order to accommodate the notion that Adam and Eve were the only two humans on earth when it all began.

When?

Isn't it remarkable how quickly we would ask our forebears to turn their back on Bible-sanctioned hatred for Africans? And we scorn their failure to have done so.

But yet we cling to instances of Bible-sanctioned incest? To support a scientific claim we rammed into the book of Genesis? And we expect our children to toe the line?

Strange, isn't it? We're like the Pharisees Jesus condemned. We hold ancestors to account for the same crimes we perpetuate today.

Moving on. The Economist notes, "Academics have lost jobs over the Adam controversy. Many Christian universities, among them Wheaton College (a sort of evangelical Harvard and Yale, rolled into one), oblige faculty members to sign faith statements declaring that God directly created Adam and Eve, the 'historical parents of the entire human race.'"

As an alumnus of Wheaton College I can honestly say that it's amazing what I was able to agree to in writing twenty years ago when I signed that pledge myself.

This series is continued in Evolution: Part III