Christopher Hitchens

I just read about Mr. Hitchens' death, at the age of 62, from esophageal cancer. I loved reading him back when I was younger; even after converting, I still liked reading him and especially watching him debate. I must be honest: I've never watched a debate where anyone really managed to get the better of him. And that's the case even though I vociferously disagree with much of what he says.

I think what I liked most about his ideas were that, although he was flat out wrong on so many issues, all of his arguments stemmed from a deeply held belief in the value of freedom and the value of human life and well-being. And that matters. Honestly, I think he did Christianity a service as well - people like him make us sharper, make us question our assumptions. I know that in an ideal world everyone would know and love the God that made us, and "religion" would become a thing of the past. But we don't live in that world, and religion HAS done a great deal of harm - or at the very least, people acting in the name of their religion, including Christianity. And so Hitchens' arguments still are vital to the debate.

He was also clearly a courageous man, which one could see in his battle with cancer. He wrote several pieces on the subject of dying in a clear and honest manner, speaking of the fears and pains of the experience, and continued to write to the end. His last piece is here.

The Urgency of Today

Back on the topic of the early Christian writers -

Something else I've noticed about the early Christian church is its sheer urgency when dealing with the problems of the day. It's a language that echoes the bible so clearly. It's a language that makes it so clear that the kingdom of God has broken into the present age. Be careful or you might miss it. The old ways of living are no longer acceptable. It's a mindset that completely broke down all socioeconomic barriers, that had slaves and masters, men and women, all worshiping the same God side by side (I know that second one is a bit controversial, but the fact that men and women had different roles in the early church says nothing about their relative status in the eyes of God).

Now, I can see why in the present age this mindset has been all but lost. People are rightly skeptical of the form that Christian urgency has often taken throughout history - "do you know where you would go if you were to die tomorrow?", or "repent or we will have you executed" - and of course such tactics should certainly be abandoned. Most people today don't like having faith thrust upon them, and as a former Atheist I can both understand and very much sympathize with this mindset. However, this loss of urgency is far more pernicious in influencing the way the community behaves. As Jon Tyson is constantly pointing out, the spending, media consumption, and sexual behaviors of Evangelical Christians in this country are pretty much identical to those of the the non- (or nominal-) Christian population. What this says to me is that there is, even among a population that calls itself devout, something going badly wrong.

There seems to be a fundamental disconnect, in other words, between the power of the message, and how the church community is living out that message. And I see it in my own life. As I mentioned in my last post, despite the fact that I KNOW that the kingdom of God has broken into this world and that the power of God is very real, I still have a difficult time with prayer. The cares of the world intrude. We deal with societal problems, such as homelessness and hunger, that simply seem impossible to solve. We worry about being "taken advantage" of, of our well-meant gifts being misused and abused. And yet, that is exactly what the gospels tell us to do: to be generous to a fault, to allow our gifts and even ourselves to be abused, so that through our good actions the kingdom and Word of God might be spread.

I brought this issue up at my life group the other night, and the leader (who is also the pastor at my church) pointed out that in this world there is and always will be resistance. As he says, we live in "contested space". And this is of course true. But still, I think much of the church's failure to really live the message that we are so intent on spreading is a failure of our will to really change things as much as anything else, our love of personal comfort, of not wanting to endanger our circumstances. Or sometimes it's just plain old, simple fear. The other night on the subway I saw a man on the train wearing no socks. His outfit was dirty and he had a somewhat unpleasant odor - odds are quite high he was a homeless man, although I could not entirely tell for sure. I felt a strong urging inside me, to go talk to him, to offer him a couple pairs of socks. It is, after all, getting cold out. I can't change his circumstance, but I can at least help to keep his feet warm. And yet, I was too afraid. It galls me, honestly, that I can't even do something as simple as to offer help to someone with an obvious need.

So this post is not an accusation, really, or if it is, I am as much or more guilty of it as is anyone.

Prayer

I'm beginning to think that my biggest problem with Christianity (or rather, in the practice of it) is my lack of a prayer life. Prayer is one of those things I'm having a very difficult time understanding. Now, that's not to say I don't understand the necessity for it - given the things I believe, I must be insane NOT to pray regularly. I believe that a man named Jesus was both God and the son of God, and was, as he stated, there when the world was made. I believe he was crucified, rose again and ascended into heaven. And I don't mean those things in some sort of "spiritual" way; I am quite convinced that these are facts, that they actually happened in history. Personally, if I didn't believe these things, there's no way I could be a Christian. If the resurrection was just some sort of spiritual event in the minds of Jesus' most ardent followers, then, to paraphrase Paul, we are still in our sins (1 Corinthians 15:17). Therefore, I have to believe that God is working in the world, has shown his power in the world, and communes with his followers. Jesus was very clear on these facts, and in fact showed us the prayer we are to pray (the "Our Father" prayer).

And yet for some reason I still find something so difficult about prayer. I did spend a week trying to spend 30 minutes a day communing with God - this men's group I attend on Tuesdays challenged one another to do it. Without the promise to my fellows that I would do so, however, I stopped doing it after that week. I find it so difficult to keep one thought in my head, to focus on just abiding in the presence of God. I think part of it is the modern world - I am always flitting about the internet from one site to the next, doing some e-mail, reading an article on the Green Bay Packers, jumping over to my favorite blog (Andrew Sullivan's The Dish, for anyone who might be curious). That said, I used to occasionally play the same video game for as much as 8 hours straight. Or practice my cello for several hours at a go (back when I was more motivated to do such things). Or today, I regularly read the same book for hours on end. And yet prayer is elusive.

I often find myself suddenly feeling prayerful when I am feeling desperate, especially about finances (happens frequently). Or sometimes, on a more altruistic note, when I see someone or read about someone experiencing great pain or need. In other words, right now prayer seems to be stemming from a response to the immediacy of the world. And I'm not saying that this factor invalidates it in any way - indeed I see it as a welcome sign of my growing reliance on God to provide me with the resources to get by in a difficult, stressful city. And yet, there's something ultimately unfulfilling about a prayer life that is strictly based on need, and not on a desire to experience communion with the God who made me.

I've heard some say that it's like exercise - very hard at first, but the more you do it, the more you find you don't want to be without it. But I find that like many such things that require constant discipline, ardent resolutions to begin the difficult journey are quickly forgotten as the cares and distractions of the world settle back into their appointed spaces. I find that attempting to find discipline in my life is very difficult - at first I thought it was just a matter of removing the pointless distractions, such as video games and movies. But new ones quickly move in, maybe slightly less pointless but still shunting a mature prayer life to the side.

The Apostolic Fathers

These past few days, I've been reading a collection of works by people often called "the apostolic fathers" - or rather, the leaders and thinkers in the early church, whose ideas and traditions are often only one or two degrees removed from the apostles themselves (or not at all, as some of them heard/met Saint Paul, or those such as Papias, who was a disciple of John, and may in fact have been the one who transcribed his gospel).

What I've found most striking about this collection is that according to the editor and translator, quite a few of these writings were included by some in the canon of writings that comprise the New Testament. In fact, the only reason we have some of these writings is that they became parts of certain bibles. However, none of them were officially canonized, and so one might end up in a particular bible here and there, but no more, which is why many of these writings were lost for a long period of time; one, for instance, was thought to have been lost to the tradition around the 4th or 5th century, only to be rediscovered in then 17th.

I believe that reading these writings can give one a good insight into not only the mindset of the early church, but also into how the bible was compiled, by showing what WASN'T included. Pretty much every time I've heard people talk about how the bible was assembled (atheists, mostly) they talk about how it was political, and somewhat random. But the reality that I'm starting to see in the writings that didn't make the cut, as it were, when contrasted with the bible, a certain disruption in the narrative. Most of these writings simply do not fit into the picture, and had they been included, would have created some very difficult logical issues.

Let's take the Epistle of Barnabas, an early writing sometimes attributed to a certain companion of Paul's mentioned in Acts. However, the editor doesn't seem to agree, as apparently the views espoused by Barnabas in Acts on the Jewish people simply don't line up at all with the views expressed in the epistle. Regardless, what struck me in this writing is how the author is basically reinterpreting large parts of the Old Testament - he points out, for instance, that the purity laws involving food were always meant to have been metaphorical. He's basically stating that the Jewish religion, as it had been practiced for hundreds of years, was based on a completely invalid reading of their ancient texts. This simply doesn't work, especially when contrasted with the views of Paul, who saw a much more complicated narrative - Jesus was a fulfillment of the old law, not a correction to it. Had this Epistle been included in the canon (it was certainly written early enough, and was apparently considered), it would have created a large disagreement within the bible.

Another writing in this collection is the Shepherd of Hermas. It contains a lot of really good, practical advice for living as a Christian, and is an interesting read. According to the editor, it was most likely written sometime between 100-140, and was copied more widely than almost any other early Christian writing. In other words, it was quite popular and well-regarded. And again, one can see the reason it never made it into the bible. Within the book is contained a long list of commandments, with the "Shepherd" (Hermas' guide through his vision) basically stating that these were absolutely necessary to follow to attain salvation. This is in marked contrast with, say, Paul, who spends quite a bit of time talking about what the life of a Christian should look like, as opposed to creating a list of commands to follow. I supposed one might interpret the Shepherd's commands in the same light, but the wording seems to be far more imperative than Paul. This, again, would have thrown a big wrench into what is a guiding narrative in the New Testament, that of Jesus fulfilling the Old Testament law, and instituting a new way of living, that of love for God and our neighbors, as opposed to a list of rules to follow.

Now, I can well understand where these ideas come from. Early Christianity was surrounded by enemies on all sides, and even from within. There were factions that claimed there had been no literal resurrection, some that claimed Jesus was not a man at all but simply God in disguise (as opposed to both), some that the earthly realm doesn't matter, only the spiritual, and a whole host of other ideas, ideas which threatened to water down the movement, or perhaps change it entirely. Christians were being persecuted, tortured and executed, finding opposition everywhere they went. Thus, the greatest strength a Christian could find was in the unity and support of his or her community, both locally and as a whole, and any threat to this unity had to be stamped out. Thus one finds, in the first letter of Clement to the Corinthians, a member of a Roman church (possibly the leader, but the history seems controversial) admonishing some members of the church in Corinth to stay humble and trust the work of their elders. Apparently, some young blood had risen up and taken over the jobs of the elder presbyters. Or, in the letters of Ignatius, one sees constant pleas for the various churches to always follow the leadership of the bishop, so that doctrinal purity and unity of action would be maintained.

These writings contain a wealth of information on the early church, far too much to really go into here. One can see in them the rough basis for what was to eventually become the Catholic Church as we know it today (the ideas of Apostolic succession found in Ignatius - an unbroken line of church leaders, the first being appointed by the apostles themselves). They also flesh out what the early church valued, and show just how incredibly seriously they took their new-found faith. Back then, Christianity was for all of its membership a matter of life in death, not only in the next world but this one as well, and this shows itself well in what they wrote.

On Tim Tebow

As a football fan since roughly age 8 (I can remember 3 of Buffalo Bills' 4 Super Bowl appearances - not terribly relevant as today I am a Packer fan), it's been impossible for me to avoid the story of Tim Tebow. And I know for a fact that some people are sick of him and wish he'd go away, which he has far less control over than does his rabid fan base. Part of the reason he's been such a compelling story is that many commentators have said he will never make it in the NFL, and yet he has won 5 of his last 6 games. The other, of course, is that he is an outspoken Christian, quoting the bible both in the locker room and in interviews. Recently, the great former quarterback (and fellow Evangelical Christian) Kurt Warner said in an interview that he believes Tebow should spend less time evangelizing and let his good works do the talking (story here). Aaron Rodgers, the current quarterback of the Green Bay Packers, said something somewhat similar in his weekly ESPN radio show: "I feel like my stance and my desire has always been to follow a quote from St. Francis of Assisi, who said, 'Preach the gospel at all times. If necessary, use words.' So basically, I'm not an over-the-top, or an in-your-face kind of guy with my faith. I would rather people have questions about why I act the way I act, whether they view it as positive or not, and ask questions, and then given an opportunity at some point, then you can talk about your faith a little bit. I firmly believe, just personally, what works for me, and what I enjoy doing is letting my actions speak about the kind of character that I want to have, and following that quote from St. Francis.' (via Sports Illustrated's Peter King here)

Definitely a complicated issue. And while for the most part I tend to agree with Warner and Rodgers, I think it's nice to see a person in an entertainment industry so outspoken about his faith, so free of the fear that many might feel to truly speak his mind - clearly he thinks it more important to share his faith than to win endorsement deals. And it was gutsy of him to appear in a commercial during the Super Bowl that was clearly against abortion - to court controversy. Now, I'm not saying here that his fame gives him any special authority when talking about his faith; but the reality is that we are in a celebrity-driven culture, and if he is choosing to use that as a platform to express his faith, I say more power to him. It may eventually backfire, but if it does I'm sure he'll adjust the delivery of his message as time goes on - he is still of course quite young. Until then, I say keep it up, so long as it remains for God's glory and His alone.

A sad day in New York City

So it has just been announced that the Supreme Court will not hear the case about churches worshiping in schools. Story here.

It's a difficult thing, to be asked to leave a place you've called home. I can understand the discomfort that some have with churches in public schools; however, I fail to see any sort of harm it might do. As Caleb Clardy (pastor of Trinity Grace Brooklyn) pointed out this past Sunday, all of these churches are paying rent (albeit well below market value) to the school district. Certainly schools can always use even a little bit of extra income. Another point to be made is that I don't see how churches being allowed to use schools can in any way be seen as a government endorsement of religion. I in fact don't see how this isn't discrimination, as we are merely a public group who wishes to use an available space. Clearly the auditorium was not in use on Sundays, as we were granted the right to use the space. Now it will just sit there.

I do believe that the vast majority of judges operate in good faith and try to interpret the law as best they can (I'm assuming this case is no exception). And, perhaps if I had a better understanding of the intricacies of constitutional law in this country, I might even agree with the judges who upheld the city's right to evict the churches, if only on a legal basis. Still, this is a difficult ruling to swallow.

All of that said - God is faithful. Trying times can often push us to be better, more prayerful, more reliant on his good grace and less so on ourselves. I am learning that very thing in this, a very difficult financial time for me, and I am certain that churches in New York will also discover this to be true.

On Fundamentalism

Is there a more irritating phrase in existence than "The Bible says it, I believe it."? I've seen the bumper sticker on many cars, and heard it used in debates and sermons. Perhaps the most irritating thing about it is that it contains a very crucial grain of truth - as a believer I am convinced that the bible is the truest expression of reality that we are going to find, and thus is, for all intents and purposes, true. But what is truth? More importantly, what is biblical truth? For instance, there is what I've seen referred to as the "newspaper account" truth, in the sense that if I were to tell you that I attended church on Sunday, it would be a description (if very vague) of an event that in fact did occur. I could of course add details to this - that I played the cello in the worship band, which started rehearsal at around 8:45, and that the pastor wore a dark jacket and tie. Now, these details one could trust or not based on how they perceive my memory, but I am at least attempting here as best I can to provide a factual account, one that could be corroborated or not by witnesses. However, and this is especially important where the bible is concerned, there are also what I might call here allegorical truths, poetic truths, philosophical truths - those that express big ideas that are true, but perhaps not in the sense mentioned above.

Let's take, for example, what's been called "the Fall". Now, if one is to believe the literal, newspaper view of things, a woman ate an actual, literal apple in the garden of Eden, sin came into the world, and all of humanity was born from two people. I don't believe this story at all in that sense, as our best science has shown us that humanity's birth was a far more complicated matter taking a far greater amount of time. That said, does this mean that the story of the Fall is not true? Clearly not. Even by most non-Christian standards of behavior, man is a fallen race. By Christian (and many other religions) standards he is even more depraved. The story in Genesis very effectively tells us this truth, and beautifully depicts it by having Adam and Eve eat the apple that is supposed to grant the knowledge of good and evil, and it does exactly that. We have fallen not only because we fail to obey God's just rule, but also because we have tried to be like Him.

I think one of the best descriptions of the difficulty in understanding the truth of scripture is to be found in the Confessions of Saint Augustine. I don't have my copy with me (so I can't point out exactly where), but in the final 3 books he dissects the Book of Genesis, going so far as to devote quite a few pages to just the first couple sentences. He points out quite a few different meanings that could be gleaned from these passages, some of which he dismisses out of hand and others he deems far more likely. And that's just in the first few sentences.

I'd also like to point out a small logical difficulty I've discovered in the letters of Paul recently. There is an admonishment in the first letter to the Corinthians that women are not to speak in church (1 Corinthians 14:33). However, at the very end of the letter to the Colossians, buries in a list of greetings and acknowledgments, there is to be found thus: "Give my greetings to the brothers at Laodicea, and to Nympha and the church in her house." (Colossians, 4:15, ESV). One could, I suppose, make the argument that she may have been just a hostess; that said, as is pointed out here, why would he then not greet the pastor? While there can be arguments made on both sides of the issue, this clearly throws a wrench into the whole "women may not speak in church" idea. As is often pointed out, the letters of Paul were letters to various communities, with differing issues. Some scholars have theorized that the women in Corinth were a chatty, gossipy lot and thus the admonishment was not so much to women in general but to THOSE women (certainly a contentious point). However, as can be found at the above link, there are a number of women church leaders mentioned in the new testament. If Paul had wanted these to stop, why encourage them? It seems odd, to say the least.

These are difficult issues, which is exactly my argument: reading scripture is a very difficult undertaking. And exactly how a Christian is supposed to behave is a very complicated thing to determine, if one is looking for rules to follow. As Paul states in Romans 14:13, "resolve this, not to put a stumbling block or a cause to fall in your brother's way." The passage makes clear to us that we are to always operate, not according to some set code of rules, but in love for God and for our brothers and sisters in Christ. If you wish to live by the absolute letter of scripture, it almost becomes like the Judaism to be found in the Book of Leviticus (I phrase it thus because I realize that, just like Christianity, there are different sects of Judaism with some different practices), a religion with a great many rules and regulations; Jesus came to fulfill the law, not to create a new one, aside from "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind" (Matthew 22:37).

The Power of Argument

I have recently been listening to some sermons given by various pastors from my church family on the topic of Evangelism. While such is often a dirty word in modern culture (as was admitted in the sermons), it is one that we as Christians must inevitably face and struggle with, as on no uncertain terms are we told in the scriptures to share our faith with others ("always be prepared to given an answer when asked about the hope that you have"). Thus, it isn't an option for us to bow to the "modesty" thrust upon us by modern culture, acquiescing to the demand to keep our faith out of the public sphere. Therefore, the question of how to do so becomes of vital importance.

I once heard a pastor point out that in this day and age, it is often just a struggle to get people (younger people in particular) to admit that there is some standard of right and wrong that exists. Modern ideas seem to be thrusting upon us the concept that "to each their own". Now, even as a Christian, I know that we, as Paul says, "see through a glass darkly". Thus, we will always have an imperfect view of right and wrong, of good and evil, and there will be always be debates. But we Christians know, of course, that a standard exists, and that standard is God.

The point here is that sometimes it is a struggle even to get someone to admit that a concept such as "truth" exists. Or perhaps beyond that, that "knowable truth" exists. As an atheist, that was the place I found myself in - guessing that even if God himself were to stick his head out of the clouds tomorrow, how could I know it was Him, and not some terrifying demon? Or merely an insane vision brought on by some unknown cause? This leads us to the idea that Evangelism is, therefore, many things. Part of it lies in the understanding that in an idea so vast as God, there are many former conclusions one must come to first. For instance, if one refuses to admit to an idea such as the validity of truth claims, that will ever remain a barrier to faith. Even if one were to admit to this, there is then the question of the evidence for God, or whether or not even a shred of evidence exists for what I will here call (as have many) the "spiritual world".

In other words, when engaging in evangelism, we must realize that the road to God often contains many side paths and intricacies, and a great many barriers. I know for a fact that some, fortunate souls that they are, have a blinding realization of God, and are instantly converted. And such a thing I would love to see. My own path to the faith (and I would guess the path that most converts take, especially those later in life) was much more winding and torturous, as has been recounted under my link near the top of the page. But for a quick summary, it consisted of a long series of arguments and discussions with people in the church, and with various authors (in my head, of course), that slowly broke down the barriers and put me in a position where I could finally, honestly ask God to show his presence.

This, then, leads me to the point of this post. I believe that the power in our arguments is the ability to help get someone to the point where they can allow God to act. God gave us free will, which means the ability to accept God, and also the ability to reject him. One common thread I have heard through so many stories of conversion is that those involved finally got to a point of crisis, where they needed God, or, in my case, a point of longing, where they finally desired God, and then he acted, and entered our lives. I was once having a conversation with Jon Tyson (the founder of the Trinity Grace church family) and, hearing my story, he pointed out that it merely reinforced his idea that God will always enter the hearts of those who ask. I'm not here going to grapple with those who state the obvious, that of course God does, that the mind is a powerful thing, and will create the spiritual experiences we long for. I am convinced that my experience, and the experiences of those in a similar situation, transcends simple mental gymnastics, but again, that is a different argument for another post.

Thus, sometimes the best victory that one evangelizing to another can hope for is a simple acknowledgement of the existence of truth, or perhaps that the stories of Christianity may not be as far-fetched as they seem (that, arguably, was my most significant step - from seeing Christianity not in the realm of fantasy but in that of plausibility), or perhaps just that it's possible that there is a spiritual world out there that's beyond our scientific knowledge. One point I like to bring up is that there are many even in the modern day, who have very convincing stories of supernatural happenings. I've had very credible sources tell me second-hand stories of miraculous happenings, one in a situation where I had not met the source of the story, but seen him speak, and knew him to be a reasonable and intelligent man.

These stories do not prove the truth of Christianity. But they do cast doubt on the idea that we merely live in a strictly material world that can be defined by our scientific understanding of it. It's one piece of the puzzle, and these pieces can add up to a coherent whole, where suddenly the idea of the God of Abraham and Jesus suddenly seems far more likely than it once did. And that leaves room for God to do the rest. We can't hope to carry the load of converting others ourselves, and thankfully we don't have to - God in his infinite love and desire to have every one of us love him in return, will inevitably draw all to him who wish it.

Forgiveness and Penn State

So I'm sure we've all heard about the Penn State scandal at this point. Obviously, a lot of horrific stuff was covered up by men who were more concerned about their reputations and the reputation of their institution than the well-being of the children who were being victimized by Sandusky. I think it's moments like this in our culture that test the meaning of the word "forgiveness" in a way that other situations don't.

Perhaps the most complicated story in all of this is that of McQueary, who was the first person to directly witness an assault by Sandusky on a child; he was at the time a 28 year old graduate assistant and, after seeing Sandusky raping a boy in the showers of a Penn State locker room, decided to report the issue to football coach Joe Paterno (and only Paterno). Since these facts have come to light, McQueary has received so many threats that he been moved to a secure location.

I've seen quite a few commentators (bloggers and such) piling onto McQueary, and perhaps rightly so. I'm quite sure that no one would try to justify NOT reporting the rape of a child to the police. Some have also attacked him for not running in to physically protect the child. And I'm going to say right here that I hope, I pray that if I am ever in the situations McQueary found himself in, I would at the very least call the police; still, I've never been confronted by such an insane situation, so I can't say with certainty. Here I'm referring to not just the rape of a child, but a rape being perpetrated by a friend and a respected member of the community (apparently McQueary had known Sandusky for a while).

So while I'd be just as happy to condemn McQueary and move on, I do not think God ever gives us that option. I've been thinking about a recent episode in my own life, and I'm seeing parallels. A few days ago, I was walking home on a very cold, windy night; I was walking by the entrance to the local subway station and I saw a (apparently) homeless man sleeping by the entrance (or at least I suppose he was). His ankles were exposed as he didn't look to have any socks. I felt a pang - maybe I could go get him a pair of my socks, or maybe even a blanket. I didn't have the resources to give him a bed or the money to get him a room, but I could at least give him something to keep him warm. My home was only a few hundred feet away, it would not have been much trouble. And yet . . . What if he was on drugs? What if he was mentally ill? What if he just wanted to be left alone? Poor excuses, all of those - the worst thing that could have possibly happened is I would have been rebuffed and gone back home.

We allow this sort of thing to happen in our country every day. It's more visible here in NYC than in most places, as we have a large homeless population. The point is, it is an EVIL state of affairs and we are all complicit in it. Human beings should not have to spend the night on the street in the cold, without even adequate clothing to keep them warm, period. And yet it's an evil we tolerate, because we feel powerless to stop it. Maybe that's how McQueary felt when he saw a young boy being raped. I know that's how I felt when I saw that man by the subway. And yet he could have called the police. I could have gotten that man a blanket.

Am I here trying to create some sort of false equivalence? Well no, of course not. But I am trying to point out that all of us are bystanders to various sorts of evil in the world. By acknowledging our own need for forgiveness, we can find it easier to forgive others, such as McQueary, who fall woefully short. Why is this important? For one, God commands it. For another, if we cannot forgive others, how can we ourselves be forgiven when we inevitably fall?

The Dual Nature of our Existence

Augustine, in book XXII of his City of God, lays out the final fate of the City of God, or rather those who are true followers of Christ. What I found most intriguing, however, came in chapters 22-24, where he first lays out a litany of woes to which mankind is subject, and then comes to chapter 24, where he lists an incredible array of ways in which we are blessed, many of them the result of human ingenuity. This reality is readily apparent to, I'd say, everyone. This world is so incredibly full of horrendous awfulness, that to even look at a tiny part of it is to understand that we are a broken race. Even in my day to day life, I walk down the street every day and encounter homeless, desperate people, riding on the train beneath where millionaires live and work. Why is that? We convince ourselves that it's an inevitability, but that's merely a pleasant lie we tell ourselves so that we feel a little less guilty.

At the same time, the world is incredibly beautiful - I live in a community of believers who really try to do Christian life together. Not perfectly, by any stretch of the imagination, but I find so much to be thankful for in my day-to-day life, and a new life in my soul that I never thought possible. I see the muck and grime and the smell the sewage in the subways, but also see an incredible feat of human engineering that allows this city to even exist in its present form. I see the internet, which is allows people to indulge their worst vices, or to band together to fight for just causes far more effectively than ever before. Indeed God, after all, created the world, created US, a miracle of complex cell structures and firing neurons and saw that "it was very good" - the Fall hardly changed that, but what a morass of sadness it added.

This duality gives us as believers pause. Sometimes, I think, the temptation is to close up ranks and try to just live with one another in our safe communities - not try to change the world, but to get by in it, until we can shake these earthly bonds and go to meet our father. In addition to being impossible in a city like New York, it is also not a desirable outcome. The Lord's Prayer doesn't give us this option - "Your Kingdom come, on Earth as it is in Heaven." Now, one could say that that's merely an entreaty for the Lord to return, to set everything right, to remake the world as it was meant to be. However, when you truly are passionate about something, when you really want something to happen, you strive for it, work toward a goal. I would say that for believers, that goal should be nothing less than the coming of the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth.

Now, I know that that statement sounds both dangerously Utopian, and smacks of a Theocracy, but that's not what I'm saying. I've always said that the only way to enact change is from within, not from on high - and in the end, power almost always acts as a corrupting agent to even devout Christians. What I am saying, however, is that we must not let the seeming inevitability of the brokenness of the world deter us from going out in it and trying to bring the Kingdom here. I think Paul's assertion that Christians must be , as pastors often paraphrase "In the world but not of it", really strikes the proper balance. We must live and work in this world, but we cannot allow it mold our faith or goals.

This brings me back to Augustine. When he speaks of the two cities, the City of God and the City of Devil, he points to a dual existence here on earth, one for those living as followers of Christ, and one for those living as worshipers of anything other than God. But he never says that we just have to let this be as it is. In his Confessions, he writes of his mother living a deeply Christian life, married to his father, a pagan. However, Augustine's father, thanks to the ministrations of his mother, had a deathbed conversion experience, which Augustine credits to his mother living the life she led (he also gives her a great deal of credit for his own conversion). This then, to me, provides an excellent model for Christian living - that if we show through our lives the truth of the gospels, than others will take notice. That is actually how I, too, discovered faith, through the realization that these people are living how I wished I could live. And that desire to understand helped me to finally ask God for that last little push.

On a further point about duality, I've found it amazing that virtually anything can become sinful. I found that I was beginning to substitute reading ABOUT God for a relationship WITH God. And this is easy to do; books have a concrete beginning and an end, and we almost inevitably pick up some bit of knowledge from reading one. And yet prayer, for me at least, is quite difficult. I'm very much still learning to hear His voice, what Elijah encountered on Mount Horeb as the "Still Small Voice" (1 Kings 19:12), and so it's been difficult. But this has pointed out to me how even an obviously good thing - it's hard to find many believers who would criticize the study of scripture or theology - can become an idol in itself. Crazy world we live in.

Scripture Through the Ages

I recently finished a monster of a book by theologian N. T. Wright, entitled Jesus and the Victory of God, an exhaustive analysis of the three synoptic gospels, examining not only their veracity, but the likely meaning of Jesus' statements within them, as well as the possible symbolic meaning of his actions. Wright comes to the conclusion that virtually everything Jesus says and does in these gospels is in the mode of a "warning prophet", like Isaiah or Jeremiah, telling Israel about its misdeeds and warning of a great calamity should these behaviors not be corrected. This is put up against many contemporary (and some less contemporary) writers and theologians who have interpreted these passages in a much more universal sense. For instance, whereas most modern-day preachers take on the prodigal son parable as a story of God's infinite love for us, no matter how much we might screw up, Wright sees it as an allegory for Israel's exile, return, and renewal, even in the face of objections from those who remained. Wright points out the parallels between the the younger son engaging in riotous living, and as a consequence being forced to feed pigs to survive, and Israel engaging in Pagan worship rites, and as a result being carried off to Babylon as slaves, in many cases being forced to work with pigs, clearly a taboo profession among the Jewish people. The older brother, who objects to the celebration being held for the younger is, according to Wright, analogous to the Jews who stayed behind.

After devoting an entire chapter to this parable, Wright goes on to analyze quite a few other saying, parables, and actions of Jesus in a similar light. He envisions the Sermon on the Mount as a re-imagining of Leviticus; Jesus ascending the mount of Olives and weeping over the future destruction of Jerusalem as similar to Isaiah going naked, or Jeremiah smashing a pot; and the Pharisees as the wicked tenants in another well-known parable. In other words, Wright sees Jesus' ministry as set entirely within his time, and firmly within the Jewish context. For instance, he points to the destruction of Jerusalem and the temple in AD 70 by the Romans as likely what Jesus was talking about when he referred to "the Day of the Lord", on the day about which Jesus says, "For behold, the days are coming when they will say, ‘Blessed are the barren and the wombs that never bore and the breasts that never nursed!’", whereas most modern-day analyses I've seen hold to the idea that the passage refers to what is often called "the end-times". Whether you take one view or the other, it's clearly, at this point, not an idea one can just take for granted.

Now, regardless where one stands on the issue of how much can really be known about the historicity of the bible (and I find Wright's methods and arguments quite convincing), it poses the question: how, in the modern day, are we to read scripture? Clearly, we are not the people to whom Jesus made these statements specifically. On the other side, even if you do take a more universal view of Jesus' words (or believe that he had an eye toward the future as opposed to just his audience), one still has to admit the he spoke them to an audience of people with very different priorities, understandings, and issues than we have in the present day, and out of that audience was born a movement that would eventually become the church as we know it today.

Personally, I think that the scriptures must, in fact, be read both ways (and Wright echoes this sentiment, at least in passing - he seems to assume it as a given. After all, if Jesus' ministry were meant only for the people of his time, then it's safe to assume modern day preachers would all be out of a job). Despite its certain relevance to the present day, I still think an historical reading of scripture is essential, especially, for instance, when it comes to prophecy. As Wright's book makes clear, it is perfectly reasonable to assume that most of the events prophesied by Jesus in the bible already happened (except for that whole coming again in judgment of both the living and the dead bit), and that therefore sitting around trying to read into current events as signifying the end times is more than a little useless. For instance, as Wright points out, the passage where Jesus mentions "the Son of Man coming on a cloud" can be just as easily read (Wright states that in fact it's the most likely interpretation) as Jesus returning FROM Earth TO Heaven, thus prophesying his eventual ascension, and not the inverse, as is commonly thought.

I would also argue that historical readings of scripture, even when they somehow seem less relevant to the present day, can inform modern readings. Take, for instance, the parable of the seed. Wright takes this parable to mean that in fact the seed which falls on good soil is Jesus himself, and the seeds falling in other, less fruitful areas as the prophets who came before him, which actually gives this parable a much more hopeful quality than might other interpretations.

I've chosen to focus this post more on the historical end of the debate mainly because it's what I've been reading about, but in no way do I think that it's more important than the timeless truths to be found in the bible as well. The historical view merely lends yet another dimension to what already are vast, complex truths.

An Introduction

Here I am, beginning my second attempt at blogging. I've been reading so many books on theology lately, and I hope that writing on the subject will help clarify my thoughts. I believe that the most important factor in life is our relationship with God, and that means not just communion with Him through prayer and worship, but also trying to figure out what exactly it is that we can really know about Him through scripture; this then leads us, naturally, to theology. While in a sense it's just my "hobby" (I am in fact a musician by profession, which has a great deal to do with how I came to faith in the first place), I consider it far more crucial than anything I will ever do to make money. And something I've discovered is that putting thoughts on paper (or at least a computer screen) can lend them a clarity that they lack when they just remain upstairs.

In other words, this isn't some attempt to enlighten anyone with my "wisdom". I haven't been a Christian long enough to imagine I have any on the subject. And we all know what the bible says about human wisdom anyways. That said, others have told me that, as a lifelong-atheist-turned-committed-Christian, I have a rather unique viewpoint on this subject, and that it might be helpful to others (particularly to those on the fence about faith) to get that narrative out there. So I guess there's that. And hey, two of my favorite authors (C. S. Lewis and Saint Augustine) converted at roughly the same point in their lives (late 20's/early 30's), so I guess that means I'm someday destined to write books that touch millions of lives, right? Yes, that's a reasonable conclusion to draw.

At any rate, anything I write is non-denominational, and doesn't presuppose any fixed doctrine. One thing I've noticed is that I'm finding great writings in a wide variety of places, from a great many Christian traditions - you certainly don't have to believe in Papal infallibility to find a lot of useful wisdom in Catholic writings, both ancient and contemporary. Another point is that I will be using simple, matter-of-fact language to describe issues because I think that's the best way to construct an argument - little is worse than an essay gummed up with a bunch of "I believes" or "in my opinions" - but don't assume that that presupposes certainty or even strong confidence. I admit I'm sure to be treading into oft-times controversial waters on some things, and am well aware that quite a few theological issues remain very unsettled (and am most likely equally unaware of some that for all intents and purposes have been), but that is what it is. Heck, if no one ends up reading this than it won't matter anyways, but just in case, it needs to be said.

Hitchens vs D'Souza

So just this afternoon I watched two debates on religion between Christopher Hitchens and Dinesh D'Souza (youtube is a wonderful thing. Here and Here). A rather exhausting exercise in its own way, to be honest. I recently read Dinesh's book Life After Death, and had heard from fellow believers that he was an excellent debater, and wanted to see him in action. I've watched other people debate Hitchens on this topic, both before I became a believer and after, as of all of the atheist commentators, he has been and is still my favorite, his rather dismissive, at times insulting rhetoric aside. None of his opponents have ever, in my best estimation, really put up a good fight. D'Souza certainly did better than most, but on balance I'd still have to say that I find Hitchens' arguments more convincing on their face, in spite of the fact that I'm thoroughly on D'Souza's side. Here's what I see as the problem:

D'Souza co-opts science for his own ends without, I think, properly allowing that just because our current best knowledge of science leaves room God, God is not inevitably going to be the conclusion. He is correct in pointing out that modern scientific knowledge in no way disproves God, but this is not a difficult point to make, and of course Hitchens jumps all over it.

Strangely enough, I've never seen any of Hitchens' opponents point out perhaps the greatest flaw in his arguments: that so many of the atrocities and attitudes in religion that he is pointing to that cause human misery are simply espoused nowhere in the New Testament.

Now, there is of course the main point to be had that he simply doesn't agree with the idea of giving one's will over to a supreme being, and that of course is the ultimate hurdle, and at its core the truest critique of Christianity (and I'd say the root of most objections to it). I'm not saying that is the reason he has rejected Christianity, as that would be doing him an immense disservice, but theologically speaking, at least in that sense he seems to understand the religion quite well. However, in so many others he falls completely short.

For instance, he loves to point out events where various branches of Christianity have sanctioned the behavior of one tyrant or another. Two examples from the debates I watched today: the Catholic Church allowing Robert Mugabe to come and receive sacraments at the Vatican while excommunicating a bishop for having a sexual relationship with his housekeeper. Another example he gave was the Russian Orthodox church sanctioning the recent Putin regime and allowing itself to become the only religion (and, for that matter, branch of Christianity) legal to be practiced in Russia.

The salient point to be made here is that there is nothing in the bible that sanctions these sorts of things. In fact, Paul is very clear in this, that the only way to pursue God in this world is from a position of weakness, not power, and so any branch of Christianity tying itself to a state government has no theological basis. The original model for Christianity was small communities getting together to strengthen one another in their way of life, to be a model in opposition to the ways and power structures of the world. Admittedly, I can see why D'Souza would hesitate to make these arguments, as it brings up difficult doctrinal points, and that many Christian thinkers disagree with me on this. That said, I can't find any places in the New Testament where we are told, as believers, to aspire to positions of earthly power. In fact, we are told that such things are dangerous, and make it more difficult to enter the kingdom of God. And I have no clue by what theological basis the Catholic Church allows Mugabe anywhere near its premises, given his track record of tyranny. The reality is that the Catholic Church is a man-made institution (no matter what some might say to the contrary) and thus vulnerable to all of the same corruptions and frailties that every power structure has. Power has and always will bring out the worst in a great many people. In this case, Mugabe remains quite popular in many parts of Africa, and the Catholic Church is busy establishing a heavy presence there. Thus, politically speaking, it makes sense to maintain ties with him, despite the fact that they have threatened excommunication to public figures for far less heinous crimes (Catholic statesmen in America being in favor of the legalization of gay marriage and abortion, for instance. Now, no matter what your opinions on the issue, and I happen to be very much against abortion, the "crime" of being able to separate your beliefs as a Christian from your vocation as a statesman in a pluralist nation is in no may comparable to the massive plundering of the resources of an entire nation, so much so that its people are literally starving to death).

So where is the fault of Christianity in all of this? Nowhere, of course; the fault lies with people; frail, broken people. And so goes the way of most of Hitchens' arguments. They either rely on massive misinterpretations of scripture (I don't want heaven to be sitting on a cloud singing praises all day for all eternity, either) or simply a thoroughly flawed concept of what the bible actually commands. For another example, he points out that Christianity really espouses an "us against them" mentality, that heaven is for "us" and hell for "them", that there is really a great pleasure to be had for believers knowing that their enemies will be tormented in hell. To me, this is an incredibly insulting caricature of my religion - I know that there are believer out there who do feel this way (sadly), but I've never met them. It actually fills me with a great sadness that many people will simply never accept God (both on the human and spiritual level), because I believe that it means most will never find their true calling, find what it means to be truly human. For, if God created us, and created us in his image, then we are meant to exist with His grace at the forefront of our minds - nothing less will ever fulfill us. I know this will be seen by many as extreme arrogance on my part ("I know how to live better than you so listen up"), but arrogant or not, it is the only tenable conclusion one can arrive at after accepting the core tenets of the Christian faith.

Now, clearly, as for Hitchens' primary objection, that Jesus' command to give no thought for family, for tomorrow, and simply to follow Him, is insane and evil, well, of course, if God is not God, Hitchens is certainly right. If God in fact does exist, however, and if He created all of us, it is not a crazy assumption at all. In fact, it is crazy NOT to do exactly that, as we know that nothing less will ever bring us true fulfillment. And furthermore, as to Hitchens' idea of most believers as weak and looking for answers and simply too gullible to find something better, well, I hold myself up as an example of another model. I tried looking for answers everywhere else, but found nothing until I found God. I also can say confidently that I have experienced the presence of God directly in my own life, and have had experiences that I would call supernatural, so much so that I would consider it INSANE for me NOT to believe in God. Now, clearly, this is never going to convince a hard-core skeptic, people so convinced of a certain reality (or perhaps too terrified of another one) that it would be easier for them to say that I made up all of these experiences, that I just imagined them, than actually admit that there may be something to all this. And D'Souza, in what I think is his best argument, points this out: that 95% of the world believes in a God of some sort, believes in the supernatural. Is this because 95% of the world is gullible, uneducated, stupid? Or is it because they all know people who have told credible stories of things just a little bit too strange to really be a coincidence? Try reading Augustine's Confessions, where he lays bare his life story, warts and all, and then tell me he is merely making up the very few accounts of miraculous events that occur in bits of his writings (one notable, and very detailed, account can be found in The City of God, Book XXII, Chapter 8). To call all of us who experience the miraculous at best gullible, at worst liars, really strains credibility.

Of course, I've come to the conclusion that apologetics, arguments, accounts of the supernatural - none of them have the power to convince anyone that God exists, still less the power to convince someone to follow Jesus. The same holds true for Atheism in many ways: try to convince a life-long believer that God doesn't exist, even if said believer has no real concrete evidence that He does, and you're likely to get nowhere. And so the two sides continue to talk past one another, D'Souza (I believe incorrectly) co-opting science to make his points, and Hitchens unfairly abusing Christianity to make his.

Unfortunately, there's very little to be done about this. It's a reality of our modern world that people tend to take seriously the beliefs that reinforce their own world-views, and screen out or laugh off the ones that don't. I only converted after being saturated in the ideas of Christianity week in and week out for 18 months, after being a committed skeptic for most of my life. Some might well claim I was just manipulated. I'd say that, being an atheist for so long, I had a pretty strong resistance to Christian ideas to begin with, and it was only their quality and truth that eventually won out.